


A Purchase Worth Fighting For

by Armybrat26



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Sam Winchester, Human Trafficking, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Mute Dean Winchester, Omega Dean Winchester, Rape/Non-con Elements, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 03:42:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 30
Words: 44,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19165120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Armybrat26/pseuds/Armybrat26
Summary: Dean didn't see it coming, he should have been paying attention. Dad was gone on a hunting trip and he hadn't been back in a few days. The payment for the motel room was up, they didn't have a cent to spare.The streets is no place for a sixteen or twelve year old, especially when the one on protection detail was an unmated omega.After getting kidnapped and forced to do unspeakable things to keep Sammy from harm, they make for an escape.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not really a dark and demented story, but I'm trying something new so bear with me.

The morning had brought many things to light. The first being, Sam hadn't had breakfast. The second, he hadn't eaten in two days. And the third.

They were absolutely and irrevocably screwed.

Dad was gone, way longer than he had said he was going to be. He should have called. Should have told him that he only paid for so many days in the motel.

Bags in hand, walking hopelessly along the street, they knew it was only a matter of time before nightfall. He was so angry.

He should have just done what the stupid motel manager wanted him to. What's a little dignity over a roof over Sam's head? He could have-

No.

He was not traveling down that path. Not doing any type of...favors...for anybody. Not even if they were willing to pay. Just because he was an omega didn't mean he would willingly bend over for any stupid knothead alpha that asked.

His father taught him how to hold his own. And Sammy had just presented, thankfully, as an alpha. He never wanted him to suffer through the things he had to.

His brand new alpha scent had saved him once or twice. Especially on this road.

Man, they were fucked.

He found a payphone the first night, tried to call John but only got his voice mail. That could either mean two things. 1: he finally bit the dust. 2: he was ignoring his calls.

Either way, he didn't waste anymore time trying to call for help. He could do this. He could...he could....

Get a job?

Yeah, that sounded right. He could totally get a job, wouldn't be the first time he had one of those. They needed money to get to Bobby's. He could get a job working at some shitty diner or something.

Speaking of food, his stomach turned, empty pains of pleading clenched his insides. Bordering on day four without food, he was starting to get weaker.

He couldn't have that. Not when he was the one in charge of taking care of Sammy. Just because he was blessed with being an alpha didn't change anything. He was twelve years old. A twelve year old couldn't fight off a crazed mature alpha.

That didn't mean a sixteen year old emaciated omega had any better of a chance.

They stopped in a small town, a few miles away from that godforsaken motel manager. A bar with the words "Roadhouse" mounted of the front, left him little option but to try for work here.

The town was small, the diner not looking for a sixteen year old and their "pup" as the owner had said. Yeah, he would have had to have been three for Sam to have been conceived, but whatever. The world was full of dumbasses.

Seeing this as his last hope for a warm meal for Sam, he ordered him to stand outside, right by the door while he went inside. Tired and a little grumpy, Sam surprisingly obeyed, tossing both of their bags down and plopping right on top of them.

Fine. Now that that was settled. He pushed open the double doors inside, hoping he would be able to spot the man in charge. With a confidence he had had years of faking, he sauntered up to the bar.

A girl was behind the counter, cleaning a glass with a towel when he stopped in front of her. Before he could even turn on his charm or flash her his best flirty smile, she cut him off.

"Too young to drink kid. Mom will kill me if I give you anything besides a cup of water. Best you just move along before she strings us both up." 

He frowned. Looking her up and down in disbelief. Kid? Who the hell was she calling a kid? She looked like she was the same age, no, younger than him.

"Well good, I'm not looking for a drink, I'm looking for a job." He pressed, trying to keep his anger in check.

The girl looked up, face even younger than he had expected. She could pull of sixteen, but she looked fourteen. Or maybe thirteen. He couldn't pinpoint it. Was never really good at guessing girl's ages. It was easier to guess a man's, especially the leering ones.

"You want work, you got to talk to her." She jerked her head toward the other end of the bar. An older woman was pouring tap into a rather large glass, waiting until the fill line was peaked and foam rose over the brim.

She looked up, almost like she knew they were talking about her. With a nod in acceptance, she handed the glass to a waiting gruff looking biker, and walked toward them.

"How can I help you?" She asked, exuding alpha authority. Thankfully it didn't smell as pungent as most, like she was trying not to run him off.

Thankfully, his mama had raised him right (in the little time she had) and he stuck out a hand to introduce himself.

"Hello, name's Dean Wesson, I've been looking for work. I'm good with my hands and a fast learner. I'll do whatever you need, even if it includes scraping gum from beneath your tables. I need a job." He finished.

Hand still stretched out, the woman stared at him, a smile starting to creep onto her face. Tough kid, especially for an omega. She admired that in a person, regardless of their secondary gender. A strong person was someone she could work with.

She reached out, clapping his hand and shook it firmly.

"Well Dean, looks like you just became a member of the Roadhouse family. Name's Ellen, this is my daughter Jo, touch her and I'll break all your fingers." She said with a proud smile. He blanched only for a brief second, before shaking his head in agreement.

"Can you hold your own?" She asked, delicately trying to inquire about his status. He knew she could probably smell him, so he was quick to stand up taller.

"I can, is there gonna be a problem with that?" She shook her head, a look of amusement on her face. Stubborn too, he would fit right in.

He nodded, turning to leave, he paused. Both mother and daughter stared at him in question. They waited until he turned to face them again, that defiant look long gone, now replaced with an anxious one.

"I-uh, I got a kid brother to take care of," he scratched the back of his neck, trying hard not to meet either of their eyes. "He goes to school, but is it okay if he can hang around here until I finish my shift?"

He chanced a look up, wondering if they would dismiss him like the diner. He really couldn't take another rejection. He needed this. Ellen looked at him, arms crossed over her chest, and frowned.

"Well where the hell is he? Can't just leave the kid outside. You want to put in work today, bring him inside." She said, taking him by surprise.

His shoulders slumped. Thank God. He nodded his head fast, turning quickly, he left to go find his brother.

"Mom?" Jo asked, a knowing expression lying in wait for her mother.

"I know Jo, but he seems like a good kid. Look how Ash turned out, he wasn't so bad. Maybe Dean will be a good kid too."

"Ash sleeps on our pool tables." She snorted.

"Ash also handles our books. We can't judge someone just off the basic facts. Dean's got a kid to look out for, so do I. Now hush." She said as Dean came walking back, a younger but similar looking kid in tow.

"I didn't tell her our real last name, I think this is a hunter bar and most people don't like dad." Sam laughed at that, an ugly laugh full of hate.

"You're right about that Dee."

"Shush," he said with a nudge, "be nice and she'll let you hang around during my shifts."

They reached the edge of the bar, Ellen still standing with her arms crossed, assessing Sam carefully. Thankfully, Dean had raised him right, so he took a step forward and reached out a hand.

"I'm Sam, Dean's younger brother, he's a good worker and I wont interfere with his job." He said, shoulders pulled back and back straight, a proud little alpha. Ellen looked over his head at his brother, an eyebrow cocked up in interest.

"He always this cute?" She asked. Sam's cheeks instantly turned red, he made a move to pull his hand away, but she reached out before he could get too far.

"I'm just teasing you kid, your brother's got the job. If you want to start right away, I got some tables that need cleaning. Your boy can sit up here and keep my Jo company." Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean, hand still connected to the woman's. Dean nodded.

"Yes ma'am." They both said automatically.

Yeah, they were good kids, she could tell that much.


	2. Settling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam are settling into town, wondering just how long it will take John this time.

It had only been two days of working at the bar for Ellen to realize something was up. Their bags, they carried them everywhere with them, almost like they didn't have a home to store them.

It was concerning, obviously, so a plan of attack had to be made, Dean was a stubborn kid. He wouldn't be so open for receiving help.

So, as he confidently strolled through the doors, Sam already gone for school, she pounced.

"Ash, do me a favor and watch the bar." She said, waving Dean to follow her back to her office.

"Sure can do bossman." He said with a salute in their direction.

Ellen beckoned him over, with a wave of her hand, she wanted him to follow her. Back into her office, to talk about something, and he was already sweating.

Had he done something wrong? Did she not like him being an omega? None of the other staff members were omegas. Clenching his fists together, he followed wordlessly. This was it, another job down the drain because of his dumb scent.

She made no sign of speaking until her door was closed safely behind them. Even then, she walked over to her desk, nodding for him to take a seat. They waited, a stalemate of the ages for him to secede.

When had he started shaking?

He tried calming himself down, John had told him numerous times no one liked the smell of a frightened omega. Taking the seat, he rubbed his hands down his thighs. Denim soaking up most of his fear, he schooled his expression.

Everything was fine. Nothing was going to happen.

And then she cleared her throat.

"Ellen please, I really need this job, I-I don't know what I did, but I promise it'll never happen again." He rushed, barely taking the time to breathe between words.

She blinked, taken aback by his outburst. Settling further into her seat, she could guess why he was worried. She hadn't really said anything but wanting to see him in her office. That was like code for "you're fired".

"Boy, I didn't say you were fired. Calm down." He slumped in his seat, now unsure on what her true intentions were.

"You and Sam, you got a place to stay?" No point in pussyfooting around the real question, she thought.

Dean sat, clearly thrown by the question. He didn't answer right away, his first mistake. Nails now digging into the meat of his thighs, he tries to think of an answer that would suffice.

"Yeah, we-uh, we got a place just down the street."

A brow raised in response.

"Really? What's the address, I need a place to send your paycheck." Blush spread like a wildfire across his face.

"About that, I thought we agreed on cash?"

She fought the urge to smile. Smart kid, good at dodging questions.

"Kid, you carry around bags full of your stuff. You and your kid brother. If you want to keep lying to my face, you might as well be short a job."

That one gave him pause.

"No ma'am," he replied dejectedly. Head hung low, eyes fighting to stay dry. Dammit. Why did he always have to get so emotional right before his heat. He knew it was coming from that alone. Damn waterworks practically on a timer by this point.

"Dean," she urged until he lifted his head. "If you need a place to stay, you can always stay with Jo and me. We have a spare room you and Sam can share in the house." This time, he looked up, eyes full of distrust. They had only known each other barely a week.

Sure she was a woman, had a kid of her own, but that didn't change the fact that she was an alpha.

"By the smells of it, you shouldn't be wandering about the streets soon." He flinched at the implication.

"I can handle it." He gritted.

"And Sam? He supposed to fight off any nosy alphas that get too close?"

He looked away, he really didn't know what the hell he was going to do. He still feels a small piece of hope that John was going to come home.

"Son," she sighed. "It's okay to need help. I just want you both to be safe. We can help you."

The office was filled with silence and a stench of anxiety. She wasn't going to say she was on the brink of sneezing from how potent it was. She had a feeling that wouldn't help their situation.

"Dad's on a hunting trip, he hasn't been home in a few days." He said, willingly baring his throat. He was tired. He didn't want to spend another night sleeping on the benches by the nearest bus stop. Sammy didn't deserve that either.

"Old man's a hunter?" She asked, surprised at how unsurprising that was. Of course he felt like he could handle his own. He was in the one place where he knew he couldn't get hurt.

"John...." if he told her his father's real name, this was it. All hands in.

"Winchester," he whispered, Ellen practically having to lean in to catch that. As soon as she did though, she froze. Winchester. A name she'd never forget.

"John W-Winchester?" Her voice trembled out. His head was back to hanging low, face hiding from her. His nose twitched, he couldn't pin how she smelled, but he knew something wasn't right.

"Son, I can't help you. You, uh, you got to go." She stood, almost sending her chair falling behind her. She pulled her desk drawers open, searching for her lock box. As she opened it, pulled out a weeks worth of pay, she smacked it onto the desk in front of him.

"This is all I can give you, if Jo finds out who you two boys are..." she trailed off. "You got to go."

"Ellen-"

"I said leave." Her voice hard now, little emotion left. Only the faint growl of an alpha protecting their territory. He looked down at his feet, trying his best not to look threatening, his hand searched around for the cash and when he found it, he was up and showing himself out.

The office door closed behind him, door rattling with the things she had wanted so desperately to say. Feet carrying him wordlessly, he found his bag behind the counter and before Jo or Ash could say anything, he was gone.

He made it a block before the tears started clouding his vision. Shit. He was so screwed. So absolutely screwed. He hadn't even bothered counting the money, it didn't feel like it was enough for two bus tickets, but he'd count it when he was well enough alone.

He had to pull himself together. A crying omega on the street was just a target for ridicule. Sam still had a few hours left of school, that would give him enough time to figure out what the hell they were going to do.

He found himself walking aimlessly around town. Stomach rumbling because he didn't have the one meal Ellen always afforded her employees. Terrific.

He was in a store, close by Sam's school. A Gas 'N' Sip that smelled like gross hotdogs and cheap cheese sauce. He walked straight to the back of the store, where the restrooms were, and locked himself inside the mens room.

He paced in the small confines of the room. Bag tossed aside, pocket weighed down with the only help Ellen could have given him. Shit. It had to be enough for two. They weren't that expensive, bus tickets shouldn't be too pricey. Especially when they were already so close to him.

Practically one state away

But that was so far in comparison to where he was now.

He slumped down onto the ground, only minimally concerned for the dirty floors. It was now or never. He sighed, digging his hand into his pocket and fishing out the wad of cash.

Taking a deep breath in, he looked down and started counting. He separated the smaller bills from the larger, settling in the realization that there were more of the larger than latter.

Almost two hundred bucks.

That should be enough. At least, he hoped it was.


	3. A Bus Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam head to the bus station.

His bag sat by his swinging feet. He was nervous. Sitting outside of Sam's school, back right against the stupid brick sign, and wondering how the hell he was going to tell him.

He got fired.

Again.

Except this time, instead of his boss trying to get some skin out of the deal, he ended up with a pocket full of cash burning a hole in his pocket. Sure, Sam was a tough kid, he could handle a four hour bus ride to their uncle's.

Lord knows he spent too much time sleeping on a bus bench, a bus seat seemed more preferable.

But...the telling part...that was a tough one. How was he supposed to tell him that their father's name got them run out of town? He was already at an arms length with John as is, but this blip?

Yeah, if he ever found them, Sam wouldn't hold back. Which meant another thing John would add to his list of failures. Obviously he hadn't been showing Sam what a hero their father was.

Going into hunts half cocked, hungover, and leaving them for weeks on end. What a hero.

He sighed. This was going to be shit.

The sound of the final bell brought him out of his thoughts. He spotted Sam's mop of hair running through the crowd, a smile bright on his face.

The smell of prepubescent weres had his nose twitching. Some barely there scents and others thick with the smell of presentation. Sam's though, he could find his in a line up. He always smelled like some type of food, mainly strawberries or mint leaves.

Upon spotting his brother, he smiled even bigger, and running toward him he could smell something was off. It didn't matter though, because he seemed to calm at his touch.

He had learned something about that during their health class that day. Omegas needing that reassuring touch or scent to calm them. It had seemed stupid at the time, but when Dean melted into him, he was surprised.

Had he never really noticed how close Dean was with him, always having a hand on him whenever they were together. Ruffling his hair, patting his back, pinching his arm. He really did try to connect them, even if it was in small annoying gestures.

It made him both happy and sad at the realization. If he had known it was something Dean needed, he would have tried to reach out more. To comfort his brother like he had done for him time and time again when he was younger.

So when they pulled apart, his hand still resting on Dean's shoulders, he didn't make a move to pull all the way away. 

He had hoped it would have helped, but his brother's shoulders seemed to slump even more. And then, he was withdrawing from his hold, reaching an unsteady hand up to mess with his hair. 

"De?"

He didn't speak, too focused on stringing together a well enough phrase that wouldn't upset him. He didn't even notice Sam's hand reaching up for his own, effectively ceasing his nervous brushing.

"Dean?" He spoke, this time louder. It worked, he blinked, frowning over at his brother. Both realizing Sam was catching up to him in height and the fact that he hadn't come up with a good enough excuse. 

"Um, Sammy, there's something we got to talk about."

He grabbed his bag still sitting obediently at his feet and slung it over his shoulder. Following close behind, he didn't ask where they were going, most likely to the Roadhouse.

He was starting to like it there, Ellen was really nice. She wasn't like a lot of the alphas he usually met. But then again, the only other alpha he really knew was their father. Thinking back on his health class and his brother's presentation, John had definitely been neglecting Dean. 

He hasn't so much as hugged him since he can remember. He knew John wasn't a very affectionate person, but still, this was Dean they were talking about. You couldn't look at him and not want to hug him.

He was just so warm and welcoming, but mainly he was safe. Wherever he went, as long as his brother was there, he was safe. It had nothing to do with designations, it was just Dean.

So he willingly followed him, no questions asked, and didn't even speak up when they missed their turn.

They didn't stop until they were at the bus depot and they were waiting in the ticket line. Finally, he turned and gave him a weak smile. 

"Ellen paid me early so we could go to Bobby's, my-uh... my heat's coming. I-I figured we could, y'know, stay there during it... and not on a park bench." He finished lamely.

Sam was quiet for a beat, giving him all the more time to slowly start freaking out. He looked pleased, and seeing the line moving forward, stepped up beside him, hand sliding into his. He hoped he would find it comforting or supportive. 

"Okay De." He said, leaving no room for doubt.

He looked down at their intertwined hands and blinked. Okay? He had said okay? No arguments whatsoever. Nothing?

Sam tugged him forward, not paying his staring any mind.

"You're... okay with that, right?" He asked, second guessing his easy mood. Sam looked up at him, a kind of reverence beaming at him so bright he had to look away. 

"Of course Dean, if you feel safe going to Bobby's, then yeah, I want to go. Plus, he's got that collection of books I've been wanting to read for awhile now."

His shoulders eased down, back to their rightful place, and he felt himself smile.

"Okay nerd." He nudged teasingly. Instead of replying, he just rolled his eyes.

This was good. They were good...

Or, at least he hoped so, but this was only the start of their journey.


	4. The Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have finally made it to the bus, got on, and are heading towards Bobby's. Life's a bitch though, and sometimes they don't pay close enough attention.

Sam's head was tucked between his shoulder and chin, as close to his scent gland as possible. And for the first time in weeks, he was releasing happy omega scent.

They did it.

They were actually on their way to Bobby's. He couldn't think of a reason not to be.

Even in Sam's growing phase, asleep, he looked so young. Like the little pup he had raised, practically all by himself, except now he was becoming his own were.

He could literally not contain his scent if he wanted to.

Two hours into their trip, after stopping in two more towns, picking up a handful of people, they stopped. Routinely gas full up, or so the driver had said when he had asked.

So, gingerly easing Sam from his side, he got up, in desperate need of the bathroom.

Taking the steps two at a time, he dropped down to the ground in a heartbeat. Had he really been holding it this long? Walking briskly toward the main entrance of the bus station, he was kindly directed to the bathroom by a preoccupied cashier.

Following the direction of their indignant point, he found himself exiting the establishment and around the corner toward some questionable restrooms. Now, he was no delicate flower, he had peed in practically anywhere that he could when he needed to. Behind a tree, in a bottle (now that one was tricky) and even in a bucket.

But this just looked plain filthy. Flies were milling about the area above the stalls. The urinals looked like they hadn't seen detergent in years. And as he nudged open the first stall door, the toilets somehow managed to look like a horror movie.

Perhaps he should just pee outside.

When he finally decided to suck it up and use the stupid toilets, he nearly shivered as he placed toilet paper about the lid. There was no way he was coming into direct contact with that monstrocity.

When his little barrier was complete, he quickly tugged his jeans down and sat down on the hell mouth.

That was one of the main things he hated about being an omega. His stupid body parts in the downstairs area. Not only did he have a vagina, but a cocklet where a clitoris would normally be. He hated it. Everything about that stupid area.

If he could have peed standing up, without getting urine everywhere, he would have done it. Anything to be more "like a man" in John's eyes.

He was washing his hands when two men came into the bathroom. Two distinctly alpha males. He moved out of their way, even though he was not in a relative path, and hurried to dry his hands.

No way was he getting caught in a situation like this. Like he had seen on the news time and time again. He didn't even notice the man standing outside of the door. As he pushed the door open, hurriedly letting himself out, he ran directly into his abdomen.

Instead of alpha, beta filled his nose, but it burned like pepper. He reeled back, stumbling over his feet in his haste. He started some half assed apology and made to move around him when he felt a hand close over his upper arm.

He looked up, eyes filled with fear and scent pouring out terror. The man's eyes were a disgusting yellow and piercing right into his soul. He thrashed, trying to rip his arm free, when two more sets of hands closed around him.

The men from the restroom.

Now in complete fight mode, he was kicking and snapping at them, hands suddenly bound in front of him. He had no choice but to kick out, it should not have surprised him as much as it had when their hands closed around his ankles.

That was when he heard it. That little voice, trying so hard to sound older than he was, braver than he felt. Sammy.

"HEY! LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!!" He yelled and suddenly his hands joined the mix and the yellow-eyed beta was sending him to the ground with a resounding slap.

That hit to his little Sammy felt like it had been right across his own cheek.

"SAM!" He called out, still fighting their hold.

"Just grab the little bastard too, we don't have time for this." Yellow eyes snarled as he started walking back, leading Dean by his ankles as the other henchman carried his arms.

He jerked and weaseled in their hands, he could see the other man tossing an unconscious Sam over their shoulder. At least they weren't leaving him behind, for some other creep to kidnap him.

A black van pulled up, wheels squealing as it rolled to a stop. The back doors were thrown open by two other men. Scents hidden behind the stench in the cabin. It smelled heavily of frightened omega.

The pass of was none too gentle, he was tossed through the opening and barely caught by the other men. Sam's limp body came smashing into his side seconds later. The other men jumped into the back and closed the doors behind them.

"Step on it, the bitch made a lot of noise, I don't doubt someone is on our tail." 

That alone gave him the idea to start screaming. Anything to catch the attention of those they were driving past. But the yellow eyed man was just as quick thinking as he was and covered his mouth with a rag. He tried turning from the hand, holding his breath from whatever that rag was doused with, but his lungs were burning.

And as he breathed in that chemical smell, his eyes dropped. Darkness swarmed around and swallowed him whole.


	5. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up in a strange place, wondering where his brother is and startles at finding his hands bound and a collar nearly choking him. Wherever he is, it must be hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bros, my bad, its PCS season, if anyone is military you'll know what that means, moving cross country in a too little car and disgusting drive thru food. Terribly sorry I haven't been able to update, haven't exactly had a proper place to write.

He woke with a thick tongue so dry it brought out a series of coughs. He's sure it would have continued on until blood watered his throat, but each cough has his throat twitching and unable to fully relieve the itch without being obstructed by something around his throat.

When he blinks, he fears he's lost both sight and taste, wherever he is, its dark.

Lifting a hand up, mainly to inspect whatever was apparently choking him, his other joins unwillingly. A faint clinging and rattling stops him altogether. He may not be able to see considering the dark circumstances, but he knows the sounds of chains anywhere. John had tied up plenty of monsters around him that this little chiming was anything but good.

Pivoting the joined appendages, he is pleased to find that, while chained to one another, they remain free from any post or tie. So he proceeds with the intrusion on his neck. The chain links twist around his wrists each time he tries to rotate too quickly. At a snail's pace, his fingertips land upon a thick leather band, now uncaring of the twisting links, he finds the clasp fixed behind his neck. However, instead of a buckle or bind, a lock rests cold against him.

A collar.

They affixed a collar around his throat.

Like he was-

He shook his head, chain rattling now because of unsteady hands. The realization is enough to bring tears to his eyes. In all of the monsters he has seen, none had ever treated him so cruelly. It was ironic, really, mainly because even though those men smelled rancid, they hadn't smelled like monsters.

They were human.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought. No one even knew what had happened, the bus had probably left without them, their bags gone for good, and no one knew where they were. Not Ellen or Bobby, or even their missing father.

He paused, hands clenching at another revelation.

Sammy.

Jumping to his feet, he starts stumbling around his confined unclear space, waving his hands out in front of him to warn him of any barriers. His feet are bare, and even worse, so are his legs. A rather large shirt adorns his body, that and that alone. Without having to see it, he knows it is ratty and worn. Someone else has worn it if the scent upon him has anything to say.

It smells like fear.

And pregnant omega.

"S-Sammy?" He calls out, too shaken now to bother pretending he can find an escape. John would be furious with him, acting just like the frightened omega he trained him not to be. But he wasn't here right now, he hadn't been for the last few weeks, so damn him to hell, he was going to freak out and that was going to be that.

He knew his heat had been creeping right beneath the surface of his skin, that was probably why they had taken them in the first place. If the shirt was anything to go by, he had an idea as to what type of establishment they were running here. Some form of human trafficking ring that pushed out either babies or pregnant omegas. Both were horrible cases, he had to find a way out. He had to find Sam.

"Sam!" He hissed out, this time louder than the first call. He had found all but one wall, cold, almost wet-like condensation along the rocky edges had boxed him in. He took a few more steps in a blind direction, before he reached the last wall, the sound of grinding metal sounded through his ears.

A door.

Freedom.

He scurried in the direction, as light swarmed inside the room, confirming he was in some archaic underground cave, he hid behind the heavy door. A pair of booted feet stomped into the room, that peppery scent of beta was burning his nostrils once more, and he fought the urge to both sneeze and vomit. Once the man was well enough inside of the room, he launched at him. Throwing his chained wrists over his head, he clambered onto his back, jerking the slack of the chain links around his throat and effectively cutting off his airflow. 

The man twisted, arms reaching back and pawing at his sides, trying to rip his hold off. He choked, face turning different shades of red and then purple, before he stumbled back into the nearest wall. As the earth dug into his spine, Dean cried out, but did not give his hold. He would kill this man. He didn't care how much pain it took to do it either.

The man, having had just about enough of this little omega's shenanigans, reached over his head and caught hold of the collar about his neck. He folded over unexpectedly, tugging Dean by the collar off of him, and then sending him straight onto the uneven ground.

His back cracked, not broken, but definitely bruised. He was too stunned to roll out of the way as that heavy boot connected with his side. Unless he was wearing cement shoes, there was no other explanation as to why his feet were so strong.

The kick hurt, his side spasmed in response, and he was finally able to roll away, evading the second kick. He crouched down, favoring his hurt side, and snarled at the man. He didn't even know the man, but he just knew that he hated him. He squared off against him, baring a sharp set of were teeth that nearly had him bowing his head toward. As the teeth snapped together, the man charged, giving Dean little to no time to duck out of his reaching grasp.

"I'll have you trained in no time bitch. This little fit right here, it will be the last. You had better rid yourself of any more outbursts now, because you won't be able to when you're heavy with my seed." He said, clawed hand closing around his throat and lifting him from his feet. As he pinned him to the wall, nose traveling around his neck and collar bone, he couldn't help but whimper. Arousal was thick in the air, putrid to Dean's sensitive nostrils, it was grounding enough that he was able to kick out at the man, effectively hitting him in his privates.

He howled, dropping Dean, giving him the perfect window for a final blow. His hands clutched the back of the man's top, and with as much energy as he could muster, sent his knee right into the man's face. He heard the distinct sound of a nose shattering, felt blood stain his skin almost instantly, and shoved the man away from him.

Regardless of his injury, he latched onto Dean's waist, taking them both to the ground. Lifting the offending leg up, he bit down, right above his knee, tearing through the first layers of skin and claiming him.

It wasn't an alpha's claim, but it was a claim nonetheless, and it had him nearly releasing the contents of his bladder at the slowly connecting bond.

No.

Nononononononono.

Shit.

Oh God, what did he do? He couldn't have actually...actually claimed him...could he have? He kicked out, foot hitting the beta's nose and sending a spurt of blood onto the ground again. The man snarled out as Dean twisted out from beneath him. What a defiant little bitch.

He limped to his feet, scrambling toward the door, he couldn't let the man grab him again, he didn't know what would happen then. His hopes were crushed almost instantly as two men, different from the ones that had helped the peppered beta kidnap him and his brother, block the exit. Instead of reaching for him though, they remained still, only there to block the door and nothing more.

"Stop," the beta threatened. He didn't have Alpha voice, so it had no real effect on him, but a burning sensation shot up his bite riddled leg. He turned, eyes mentally setting the bastard aflame, as he snapped out, "Fuck you." And charged the two doormen.

They caught him, even before he could reach out through the open doorway, really feel the light on his skin. They held him, waiting for the beta's orders, unfazed as he thrashed in their grip. The man got to his feet, barking out toward an unseen helping hand, probably more henchmen further down the corridor.

"Bring in the bitch's kid."

He froze at that, they had to have meant Sammy, his baby brother, he didn't have any kids besides that one. His little brother was his entire world, if anything happened to him, he would suffer beneath whatever hell they had in store for him, willingly.

Two more men entered the room after a brief pause, at the sound of his voice, he sagged in relief. Sam was alive.

"Get the hell off of me! Where's Dean? Where's my brother?!?" For such a little alpha, the kid sure had one sized knot, snapping at such scary-looking fuckers like that. He wanted to say he was proud, but that was before he saw his face.

He had bruises littering nearly every piece of skin revealed to the light. He wasn't wearing the clothes he had, like Dean, but instead of a large shirt, he wore a cut off pair of cloth shorts. Dean was twisting in the men's hold again, calling out for his brother, and nearly weeping at how fast the kid snapped his head toward him.

"Dean!" He called, so relieved it was obvious when he settled in their grasp. Before they got too comfortable, the beta, he now remembered as Yellow Eyes, stepped between them. Yellow Eyes looked down at Sam, obviously unsurprised at the condition of his body, and then returned his stare at Dean.

"Sammy, my boy, I'm so glad you've finally calmed down enough." Sam was ignoring him, too focused on scanning Dean for injuries.

His heart nearly stopped when he saw the bite mark.

"Oh good, I can jump right to the end," Yellow Eyes remarked as he followed Sam's line of sight. "Your omega brother is now mine, my property to do as I please, treat as I wish, and handle however I deem necessary. You on the other hand, I have no use for." He spoke as he waved an indignant hand over his shoulder. His mustard eyes were practically burning into Dean's soul, watching him fight the two men now white-knuckling his upper arms. For an omega, he was strong.

He smiled, teeth sharp and predatory as he thought of how enjoyable breaking him would be.

"WAIT!" Dean yelled, chains clanging around as he managed to twist out of one man's hold. "I-I'll do whatever you want. Whatever you ask o-or command. I'll be you're good little omega." He said, eyes dropping in defeat.

It was now Sam's turn to begin screaming.

"Dean are you crazy!? There's no way in hell I'm letting you-

"Shut up Sammy, you aren't letting me do anything because I'm the big brother, I'm the one that got us into this mess in the first place, so don't you dare start acting all proud alpha on me now. I didn't raise you like that and you'll listen to me when I tell you to stand down." He barked.

The two stared one another off, Yellow Eyes watching on the sidelines with a sickly smile on his face. What a delectable proposition they had in store for them. Clearing his throat, brow raised in a commanding tone, one that got a pleasingly submissive response out of Dean.

"I have reconsidered." He paused, trying to draw in both brother's attention now.

"I'll keep you boy, little alpha, but under one condition."

He barely had the last word out before Sam was agreeing.

"Anything."

"You may stay with your brother, same room and all, since I'm feeling so...nice, I'll even give you guys an upgrade."

"But?" Dean asked, already hating whatever outcome he came up with.

"You're to be sterilized and collared. I can't have anyone challenging me for my bitch. So what says you, little alpha?"


	6. A Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam returns, changed and collared, all for the sake of his brother.

He's laying on his side, sweat plastering his hair to his temples. He twitches, unable to remain still. They took Sam hours ago and haven't come back.

With the added stress, his heat was practically called out, ready to please his disgusting Beta of a mate. But even with the cramps and the spiking feeling of need, he has not given in to his heat.

He won't until he knows Sammy is alive.

That doesn't mean his Beta hasn't tried already. Hand shaped bruises litter his arms and neck, but along with his broken nose, Alistair, he's disappointed to call Beta, has a new injury. In the midst of trying to cup his ass, Dean had taken ahold of his arm and snapped his wrist, just like John had taught him when dealing with unwanted advances.

Alistair had yet to have returned either. That was beginning to worry him. He hoped that the feral, "Not until I see Sammy," had gotten his point across. He would eventually submit to this piece of garbage, but it would be a lot easier if he knew his brother was okay.

Then Alistair could do whatever he pleased without sustaining any more injuries.

So he's laying on his side, curled around the sharp stabbing pain of his waiting uterus. It could not have picked a worse time to call for attention. He knew he was a fertile omega, he didn't need a piercing reminder.

Or a baby shoved inside of him.

He shivers at the reminder of Alistair's threat. He doesn't want to be heavy with his seed. He doesn't want to be heavy with anyone's seed, much less that bastards.

The door is opened, whining as it scraps against the ground. Despite the unannounced cramp, he sits upright. He can smell the scent of his baby brother, but it doesn't smell right. Not like what he had grown to love and connect with his book-loving sibling.

He smells muted, like his scent has been washed and saturated by emptiness. He looks even worse than he smells. Surrounded on either side by two if Alistair's henchmen, Sam enters to room.

He's limping, face twisted in deep concentration as he forces himself forward. A collar similar to his own is locked around Sam's neck. He whines low in his throat when he sees it.

The sounds draws his brothers eyes from studying the grains of the floor. A returning call is cried back, and Sam struggles with the chains binding his hands from reaching out and embracing him.

The henchmen shove Sam forward, uncaring of his sore muscles when he looks ready to fall. Dean clambers to his feet, catching his brother before he can stumble and make an unfortunate connection with the earth.

Looping his bound hands over Sam's head, he hugs his brother, relieved he's still breathing. Sam's nose pokes the side of his neck, sniffing like he did when he was a baby, trying to find comfort in his omega parent.

But Sam cannot smell him, even when he buries his face into his neck, he can only smell Alistair. It is enough to send him bursting into tears. Dean shushes him, squeezing him that much tighter against him, and ignores the new scent of his brother.

"It's okay Sammy, we're going to be okay. I've got you, don't worry."

The door is shut behind them, not that they notice or care. They are alone, and Dean takes the chance to lower them both to the ground. They lay burrowed into one another, Sam's head cradled in his brothers hands until he cries himself to sleep. Dean waits, allowing the pain of his cramps and heat to seep through, only when his brother is not looking does he shed his own tears. It is his fault that Sammy is in pain. That his identity has been ripped out of his chest.

That his presentation was stolen long before he could fully mature into it.

The tears fade when his breathing calms, much like Sammy's did when he gave in to sleep. It is so tempting to fall into a slumber like Sam, but he knows he must stay awake. Someone has to keep watch in case Alistair or any of his goons show up again. He won't be taken by surprise. Not again.

* * *

He jolts awake at the sound of a lighter clicking. He had shut his eyes for only a second, but now, without the aid of windows or a watch of some type, he has no idea how long he was asleep. Sam remains in his arms, unmoved by the sounds of life stirring around the room. John could write a book full of the mistakes he has made within the last twenty-four hours.

Or, at least, he thinks its been that long.

The smell of smoke does well in covering the scent of whomever now occupies the room. The burning of his bite mark gives him away though. He frees his hands from around his brother, and manages to sit up right as Alistair flicks the lighter to life again.

His eyes are bruised, nose covered by a bandage, and the hand leading the cigarette back and forth from his mouth is casted.

Alistair looks like shit.

"Well, my darling little omega has finally woken from her slumber."

He wants to snap back that he's a boy, but holds his tongue for the time being. The glare that now mars his face gives Alistair a good enough idea as to how he's feeling.

"What did you do to my brother?" He demands, way past the point of asking. His determination is enough to spike pleasure inside of Alistair's lower abdomen. He cannot wait to crush him. He remains silent, much to Dean's displeasure. After talking non-stop the day prior, suddenly he's too good to converse with Dean?

As his anger grows, the pain inside of his stomach follows. He doesn't know his hands have drifted down to smother it until his chains chime out. The noise is music to Alistair's ears. A bitch looks even better tied down.

The door opens, letting in a flood of artificial light, and blinding Dean for a brief second. A group of men enter the room, three of them approach him, and Alistair stands by, unfazed as they lift Dean from the comforts of the rocky floor.

He thrashes, snapping his teeth at any that look upon his face. A man's hands dig beneath his armpits as the two others each grab ahold of his legs. He hears the sounds of the other men picking Sam up, that is the only time he eases, knowing his brother will be accompanying him wherever he goes.

The halls they follow are lighted by powerful lamps, fit for archeological digs. Cables and cords adorn the walls like streamers, connecting each light to a source of power passed what his line of sight allows. The walls mirror that of his and Sam's old room, underground and rough. The smell of Alistair's cigarette informs him that he is unfortunately following them. He doesn't realize how unfortunate it is until the man finally speaks.

"I want the boy tied to a chair, make sure he is placed in a spot with a good view. As for the bitch, keep her stationary, but not useless, I do love it when they struggle."

The room they enter houses light, it is grand in size and rich in furnishings. A large bed sits centered at the far end of the room. A desk with multiple drawers is within walking distance, and rugs cover the chill that the rocks carry below. The bed looks the size of a king, with four posts nearing the height of the ceilings. It looks more comfortable than the ground he had slept on earlier. He only starts to struggle when he sees a chain tied to one of the posts.

They carry him to the bed, swiftly dodging his kicks and double handed swings. Before he can shout out, 'what the hell,' the chain is attached to his collar.

He tugs weakly against it, nearly choking himself when he pulls too hard. He doesn't see the other men tying Sammy to a chair, he's too busy trying to fight off a pair of advancing scissors. The scratchy material of his shirt was uncomfortable, the smell was unbearable, but when it was sliced from his body he missed it.

Sam wakens at the sound of Dean's yelling.

"Don't you dare fucking touch me!" His brother is chained to the post of a large bed, naked and angry. He sees their captor easing off the layers of his suit at the foot of the bed, steadily closing in on Dean.

His bound hands jerk the leash of a chain, ignoring the pain of burning leather biting the back of his neck. His face is pink with exertion. Only then does Sam realize his brother's heat has already started.

"Dean!" He yells, bucking against weights of confinement. His brother's eyes snap over to him, right as Alistair climbs onto the mattress. He knows he won't be able to stop this, especially when Alistair's hands find the chain.

Looking over at his brother's face, Dean manages one last sentence before he lets his fear take over.

"Don't look Sammy."

Like a good brother, Sam does so without question.

He closes his eyes and turns his face away from the scene playing before him. He can hear Dean struggling, the chains binding his hands rubbing against one another, and Alistair snarling at him. A hand grabs ahold of his chin, jerking his face back in the direction of commotion, but he still doesn't look. He won't look until Dean says he can.

Alistair, even with his broken wrist slowing him down, still manages to pin him face down on the bed. Dean struggles, trying to push himself up, even when the chains now bruise his flesh and his collar strangles him. He doesn't truly give up until he feels a finger at his entrance.

"No," he whimpers, voice small and weak. Alistair leans over his back, his menthol smelling breath heating his already flushed face.

"Yes, little Omega, you're going to love this part."


	7. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are left alone in the room.

They're just out of reach. Barely a breath away from touching, he knows, he's tried.

Dean however, has not moved since Alistair and his goons left the room, both brothers bound to the bed with nothing better to do than stare at each other. Which Sam has, for the last hour.

Dean hasn't moved. He's breathing, but he has not moved from beneath the comforter on the bed. Its a beige and burgundy bed spread that feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. It's smooth like silk. And it is extremely porous. For the last thirty minutes, Sam has been unable to look away from a red stain following down the crest of Dean's back. He knows where that ends, even beneath the heavy blanket.

Dean was hurt and quite possibly freaking out.

"Dee?" He tried, for the hundredth time, and like the ninety-nine times before, he gets nothing in response.

He sits, chained, to the foot of the bed, tied to the post like his brother. He's tried everything short of gnawing through the metal of his leash. There is a bolt that fastens the chain in place, a lock at the back of his neck with a metal ring, perfect for clipping a leash to.

After seeing what Alistair had done to his brother, he hardly thought about the drastic change he had just undergone himself. Even as close as Sam is to him, he can't smell Dean, at all. Not even the penny-like scent of blood hits him.

They did a number on him as well. He twitched in place at the reminder. The sheer amount of gratitude he felt toward the witch doctor that preformed his surgery was insurmountable. He thinks of him as a witch doctor only because of how odd he was. A man in a suit, with an adorning apron overtop, scruffy looking really. He can't recall his name now, but he's sure it was something along the lines of Crawl or Marley, he had an interesting accent that threw it off.

He didn't seem as demented as the other bastards here, Sam knew that for sure. Otherwise he'd be feeling the pain of their mad scientist circumcision. Subconsciously squeezing his legs together, he let out a trembling breath. He would never be the same. Not to Dean or their father, wherever the hell he was, or even Bobby. Not that he would care, Bobby was a Beta, except, he had been born that way.

Sam had been forced into becoming one. And now he would never get to smell home again.

He didn't realize he was crying until he felt a bump against his outstretched foot. Looking down, the bump had come from a blanket covered foot, belonging to that of his brother. It only makes him sob out, and soon he's scooting down as far as he can manage to hit Dean's foot again.

His chain rattles, the collar restricts his airflow, but he eventually connects with Dean's leg.

"I-I I'm s-sorry Sammy." Dean says, practically whispering.

"No, Dee, it's okay, you don't have to apologize, we're going to get out of here. Everything is going to be okay, remember? As long as we got each other, we can take on anything." He quickly replies. He won't stand any apologies from Dean about what had just happened. They had done what they had to do, for each other. Dean's shoulders shake but no matter how hard Sam strains his ears, he cannot hear him crying.

He wonders if Dean did that a lot as a kid, perfected crying in front of Sam so he wouldn't wake him. Now it only makes him feel worse. He doesn't even know if this was the first time someone had put their hands on him, he'd seen the leering eyes of older Alphas whenever he and Dean would walk by.

Shaking the thought out of his head, quite literally, his leash makes it reappearance when he tugs too far and lets out an audible gasp. Dean sits up, worry staining his face besides the tears upon his cheeks. Waving his hands, ordering Sam to calm down without having to say anything is what finally makes him stop.

"Sammy, you got to listen to me, we are going to get out of this, but you have to listen to everything I say. Can you do that?"

Readjusting himself, he regretfully pulls away from their shared heat, and mirrors Dean's upright position.

"I can do that, but Dee, I can't let them keep hurting you."

A sad smile paints across his face, welling up tears in Sam's eyes faster than a Nicholas Sparks book.

"You're going to let them because I told you to. This is how we'll get out, we wait." He wants to argue that if they wait any longer they could get separated, or worse, they could kill Dean. But, like the good little brother, he just nods his head because if Dean thinks he can handle this, then so can he.

"Okay Dee, but if you can't take it anymore, we have to come up with a new plan."

The nod he sends in his direction is a lie, and they both know it, but Dean rolls over and orders Sam to do the same. If only they could wake up from this nightmare already.


	8. Time Jump

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forward a few months down the line, the plan hasn't been practiced or even planned. At a random chance, Dean sees his and Sam's opportunity and doesn't waste it. Even if he is pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dudes, I'm sorry I fell off the face of the earth, the world wasn't just turning up here it was set on the highest speed on the treadmill. I'm not saying I couldn't keep up, but things have slowed down and it's good to be on track again.

He's panicking, breathing loud and erratic that even Sam is starting to worry. His foot is bleeding and his stomach is weighing on his bladder.

He wants to turn back.

But Sam won't let him.

"You got us this far Dee, I know you can take us the rest of the way." Sam presses, looking over the headrest of his seat.

They are in a stolen Sudan, registered most likely in Alistair's name. Dean, since Sam never had the time or opportunity to learn how to drive, is behind the wheel.

Sam had worried about his leg, but Dean was in no shape or state of mind to give Sam a driving lesson. Especially when they just lost their tail.

It took a lot of swerving and nearly losing the contents of his bladder, but they are alone. The dirt road ahead of them gives him little hope for civilization.

Trees zip past them as they descend what Dean can only describe as a mountain. It must be with how steep it flows, he's riding the brakes trying not to loose control over the wheel and drive off the road.

His knuckles are white around the steering wheel, the baby is awake, kicking and shifting. He doesn't realize he's veering until Sam's hand reaches over and rightens the wheel.

Risking the chance, he looks over at his brother, expecting him to scold him for his reckless driving, but Sam's mouth remains shut. Only an understanding nod is sent in his direction.

"We're okay Dee, you need to breathe."

He shakes his head, he knows he has to breathe, like he knows it's up to him to get them free. Except he's emotionally exhausted and has no idea what they are going to do when they find help.

What do you say to someone after being kidnapped? (Besides the obvious.) What year is it? Is rock still cool? Have they found their father?

Or more importantly, did they find Bobby?

The third question has Dean calming down almost instantly. Of course rock is still cool. Rock, unlike them, will never die.

The second question is the one that often keeps him up at night. When his heat was still occurring it was like clockwork. Every three months he went into heat, by the third and last, since his pregnancy, time only got that more difficult guessing.

His stomach was round but not as heavy as an omega in their third trimester would be. His morning sickness had thankfully faded. Perhaps he was in the second trimester already. It should have made him happy. The baby was finally out of the most critical period, but joy was not the first emotion he felt.

With the added time of his heats, that meant nearly two years have come and gone, leaving Sam and Dean in the wake of missed holidays and educational opportunities. Bobby probably thought they were dead.

He hoped Sam wasn't counting, because if he was, he would weep as the last of his childhood passed him by.

Then again, neither of them had ever really had a childhood to begin with. Hunting took precideance. He can't remember what mattered before John took them for the life on the road.

The thought makes him shift in his seat, a gesture that Sam immediately concerns himself with. Is Dean uncomfortable? Perhaps the shoddy piece of fabric wrapped around his ankle isn't stopping the blood as well as he hoped. He wants to question it, but doesn't get the chance to when the road suddenly smooths, stopping its brutal attack against the tires of their stolen car. 

They look to each other with smiles filled with hope. They've reached solid road. Which meant people weren't far behind.


	9. Freedom is a Whore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They don't make the escape.

Their hope is spread thin, just barely having arrived at a questionable looking establishment, they are running out of gas.

Neither of them can leave the car without raising questions, or worse, unwanted attention. If Dean knew anything about Alistair, the man was clever. He probably had this joint bugged or something. Though, upon closer inspection, it looks like no one has set foot in the building for years.

Yet he still risks it. Ordering Sam to stay put is a three minute argument. One of which Dean ultimately wins because he knows all three of Bobby's numbers and Sam only knows one.

He could very well tell Sam, but the thing is, he's guilty. It was his fault they were even in this mess. Yes, Sam had argued time and time again he can't control his own nature.

But it was ultimately his decision to leave town. Regardless of how Ellen felt about them sharing John's name, she probably wouldn't have run them out of town.

So he has to do something to get them out safely. So he's hurrying, across an empty parking lot toward a payphone. The fabric wrapped around his ankle and foot soaks up the remains of a day old puddle. His shirt is still thigh length and swallows him enough to hide his stomach. 

Along with Alistair's car, he's stealing his baby. If they get caught he's surely going to be punished. You didn't steal from Alastair and live. He wasn't so quick to forgive the people that "bit the hand that fed them".

His hair is growing, rivaling Sam's by this point. Not long enough to pull into a hair tie like Sammy's, but long enough to pull on. Which is what Alistair recently started doing, despite his best protests.

He reaches the payphone, without a booth to protect him, he immediately feels like he's being watched. He ignores the feeling and tries Bobby's home phone. 

It rings. 

And rings. 

And rings. 

By this point he knows Bobby won't answer, he hates telemarketers. So he tries his cellphone. As it rings he finds himself praying, for the first time in a long time. He prays. 

And by some miracle, Bobby answers. He sounds rough and angry, like he always is, and it brings tears to his eyes. He blames it on the hormones and clears his throat. 

"Who th'hell is calling me at nine o'clock at night?"

"B-Bobby?" And the other side of the line quiets so fast he's worried the call has dropped. But then he hears Bobby laugh, light and relieved. 

"Boy is that you?" He nods his head before he forgets Bobby can't see him. 

"Yeah Bobby it's me. I don't know how long I got but, Sam and me, we're fine. We got taken by a couple of uh-

He stops.

Would Bobby still try to find them if he tells him that HUMANS got the best of him? He knows he's nothing like John and wouldn't turn them away so easy, but still. It was a rookie mistake and Dean deserved the tongue lashing.

"T-traders, they sell humans and I think the baby is next so we don't have a lot of time-

Bobby cuts him off before he can try and describe their location. 

"Baby? What baby? Dean don't tell me that one of them bastards put his hands on you. If he did I swear I'll gut him."

He takes a chance to breathe, holding the line and tension in his lungs before letting it out. That seems to be all the answer Bobby needs. He's cursing something fierce and could probably go on until the sun rose, but Dean gets his attention back. 

"I don't really know where we are, somewhere near the mountains, it isn't too cold, but then again I don't know what month it is." He says with an awkward laugh.

"It's August son, you've been gone a year and seven months."

Dean knows Bobby can probably tell him the days and hours since their kidnapping, but he doesn't, in favour of getting them back on track.

"Do you see anything noticeable, a landmark or a store?" Bobby asks scribbling something down.

Dean looks around, pulling the phone away from his face and turning nearly in a full circle. The only thing he sees is the shoddy store that looks like it's been shut down for years and a long road toward town.

"There's a building, rundown, roof falling in and windows broken, the sign I think was supposed to say 'Gas 'n' sip,' but someone gratified over it so it says 'ass' instead." Bobby writes it down, probably even the ass part and hums for him to continue. 

"Uh, I think there's a sign for the town, but it's too dark to read it. Something like salmon, but that doesn't sound right. Maybe there's a river nearby?"

"That's good son, you're doing real good, now you got a way to get there?" Dean looks back at the car, there was enough gas to stretch the distance, he just didn't know how far he'd have to go. 

"We stole one of their black sudans, four door, nice set of rims, but we dirtied them something fierce on the way down. It's got gas, I just don't know if-

A hand wrapped around his mouth, shutting him up and causing him to drop the phone. He was ready to start swinging when Sam shushed him, leading him from the car and toward the ramshackle building. 

He doesn't speak until they are safitely inside. Hidden in a poorly kept storage room at the back of the store. 

"I saw head lights coming from the mountain. I trashed the car to make it look like we left in a hurry, hopefully to buy us time."

Dean nods, sometimes that kid is too smart for his own good.

"How long until they get here?" It's dark, but they are close enough that he feels Sam shrug. 

"Too soon." He says, voice shaking like the hand he uses to reach out for his brother.


	10. Two Truths and a Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean are captured, Bobby's left on the hunt, searching practically any place with a relative name close to the town Dean had named, "Salmon".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!!!! May be hella sad parts coming up, terribly sorry if I crush your feelings, this story crushes mine as well, but keep your chin up, high times await.

"All right class, I'd like to start our day by welcoming our newest student, Sam Winchester, can you all greet Sam 'hello'?" His seventh grade teacher says, making a wide gesture of his hand out to the class before them.

At least twenty other students murmur some type of small welcome or hello, but only one student chimes in with a loud, "Two truths!"

It brings a smile onto the teacher's face, but a frown onto Sam's. He has no idea what this brave little voice wants of him or if this must be some type of strange custom in this town. Wouldn't be the first time he or Dean were on the outside of an inside joke. Sensing Sam's confusion, his teacher turns to him and claps his hands together gently.

"When we started this semester, as a friendly get-to-know you exercise, we played a game called Two Truths and One Lie. You tell us three things about yourself, one of them being a little fib, and we have to guess which thing is the lie." The smile that spreads across his face unsettles Sam's stomach, he knows this is a memory, he's lived it, but for the life of him, he does not know why he's dreaming of this. Of all things, why this?

He clears his throat, feeling the rapt attention of the whole class now on him as he tries to stumble through a quick introduction. He thinks of thousands of things to tell them; Werewolves are real, he can shoot a gun with a blindfold on, and many others that they would all think him insane for being truths. So he tries smaller. His mother died when he was a baby- nono, too morbid, then he'd be the kid with the dead mom that no one would want to talk to.

Maybe smaller than that.

He's read hundreds of books, he has an older brother, his father use to be in the military. But where is the lie? He's never been too good at lying. Dean raised him to always tell the truth, even if it could hurt someone's feelings. So he tries another route.

"Um, I've read over a hundred books, I have an older brother, and...." he pauses, trying to think of a lie, a little fib, like the teacher said. But nothing comes to mind, so he comes up with one that sounds like a lie, to them at least. "My brother is my Omega parent."

The class starts deliberating amongst one another, picking apart the last statement, which brings a hollow smile onto his face. When they finally decide that is the lie, they voice it out to him, smiles on their faces and eyes practically burning through him to see if it is indeed a lie. The only lie he suggests is when he nods at their conclusion. Everyone is happy that they appear to have answered correctly. The teacher finally points to a desk where he can set his things down and they can resume their work.

Handing him a worksheet, the teacher tells the others to finish their work as he squats down to assist Sam with his. Transfer students always seemed to have the hardest time with math, yet Sam only looks over it once and instantly starts attacking the first problem.

"So, that was pretty impressive, most students are a little shy when they have to tell some information about themselves. You did good." His teacher offers, slowly standing to his feet. As he's walking away he hears Sam return his praise with thanks and then mumbles something under his breath.

It was subtle, but if he hadn't be paying so close of attention to the boy, he never would have heard it, but he did. He heard Sam blatantly say, "thanks, I didn't even have to lie."

* * *

"SAMMY!" Dean screams as two hands grab his shoulders. They hadn't even heard them entering the abandoned store, they were so efficient, trained not to be detected by scent or sound. It took even Dean's sensitive nose a second to tell they weren't alone. A second too late.

Sam had fallen asleep, limp on the ground across from him, but he jolted awake as soon as he heard his brother's cries. Lunging forward, trying to stop the hands that dragged his brother out the door, he was stopped. Held back by a strong set of hands he could have easily fought against, but he didn't.

He couldn't risk losing Dean. When he complied, Alistair let them stay together. So he permitted their heavy hands to carry him through the store, out the exit, and toward a parked SUV.

Dean, however, was losing it. Thrashing about, shouting to anyone that could hear, and snapping his teeth at anyone that touched his stomach. If he kept this act up, Sam would surely never see him again. It wasn't like Alistair could punish a pregnant omega.

"Dean! Dee, calm down, everything is going to be all right." Sam soothed as he was set in the back of the vehicle. He didn't even notice how easily the lie had fallen off of his tongue. He had never lied to his brother before.

Dean soon joined him, unaware of his internal struggles as he seemed to focused on a voice barking out at the handlers.

"If you hurt the bitch, it's coming out of your paycheck."

Alistair.

Dean's body instantly went still, he knew that if he struggled any further in his presence, it would be Sam or the baby that would receive the backlash. He had already been so difficult, he's surprised Alistair let him go on this long. He settles against the wall of the trunk, eyes pointedly looking down, so as not to anger his mate any further.

Even thinking of him like that sent his body shivering and his stomach churning.

Nonetheless, he remained as still and obedient as he could manage, given the rage and anxiety rolling through his gut like a tsunami. He didn't even move when the trunk shook under the added weight of another person clambering into the back. Nor did he turn away from the hand that brushed against his cheek.

"I was worried my favorite little girl had been taken from me, but you wouldn't steal from me, would you little beta?" He asked, not even turning to address Sam. Instantly Sam is shaking his head, ready to voice out any protests against taking from Alistair. It's not like they were people or anything, merely objects, pets, that Alistair liked to keep around. Why would they have any reason to leave without permission?

"Good, because I'd hate to have to punish you two. I was absolutely driven mad at the possibility of my pup going missing." It was then that he flashed his yellow eyes at Sam's face. He knows logically that he's talking about the baby inside of his brother's stomach, but just the thought of being remotely related to someone like Alistair has Sam twitching in his seat. 

He was on him within seconds, wrapping a hand around his throat and squeezing tightly, seemingly unpleased with Sam's inability to remain still. Any promises Sam had made about keeping them unharmed went flying out the window. Sam's face was red with the lack of air, hair flopping in front of his eyes as Alistair shook him. Shit, he was going to die.

"You know better than to take from me, little pet, I should just kill you now, end all of this constant worrying."

He tried to sit still, to mind his own business like a good little omega. But Dean couldn't take it, he had already disobeyed Alistair by simply looking up, a mistake on his part, but he couldn't help it. Not with the sounds that his little brother was emitting. So he dared to open his mouth. Anything to save Sammy.

"STOP!"

Even with his slowly fading vision, Sam could see how quickly Alistair froze. It was almost comedic, how enraged he suddenly looked. Sam felt Alistair's hand leave the safety of his neck and fall onto his brother. The darkness had taken him before Sam could stop it. The last thing he heard was Dean crying out. And then everything went black.

* * *

When he wakes, its to a familiar position. One he dreads every time and actually fights against because he knows there's no escape. He knows that Alistair likes watching him struggle, but he doesn't care.

He's sitting in a chair, bound, and facing his brother.

Every time that Alistair has bound him like this, he is either forced to watch heinous acts be conducted upon his brother's body, or forced to watch Dean put himself back together. So he jerks his arms, and instantly, like the many times before, rope catches him before he can break free.

"Dee?"

Something is different about this set up. There's no bed and no one else there to torment either of the siblings. But instead of a single chain around his neck, Dean is fastened to a chair. It looks almost like a dentist's chair, complete with the headrest and the extended leg support. It's folded open, so his brother is looking up at the black empty that should be the ceiling. Sam does not know if he's awake, but by the rising and falling of his ever-growing stomach, he knows he is alive.

As a door opens, way beyond Sam's line of sight, he feels a rock drop in the pit of his stomach as one of Alistair's goons enters, carrying a bag the size of a doctor's kit. The man looks nothing like the muscly hot heads that usually drags them around or beats them whenever Alistair wishes. He looks smaller...smarter, like he's for hire or simply offering his opinion on Dean's condition.

It's when he starts setting up an I.V. and pulling out demented instruments of surgery that he starts panicking.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?!" A table sits besides Dean's unconscious head. There's a belt fastened around his chest and another low on his hips. His hands are buckled to the arms of the chair as well as his legs.

If he ever has the opportunity to lie again, he wouldn't. He knows this now because lying is a terrible crime. Dean believed him when he had said they would be fine. But they weren't they would have been better off dead in the streets than here in this hell.

As the little doctor injects something into his brother's arm, he knows that something is about to begin. Something even the devil would protest against.

Dean's shirt is lifted, revealing the round globe of the baby, and Sam starts thrashing.

By the time everything is complete, Dean's flatter abdomen stitched together and the baby carried out, he knows he'll never lie to his brother again.


	11. The After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up.

The air is stiff and groggy. His eyes are crusted together with the effort of waking. He feels different.

Instead of the comforts of his and Alistair's shared bed, he's lying on a ground similar to that which he had first welcomed when he arrived in hell. Rough terrain that meant Alistair was punishing him. For what, he didn't know. Distant thoughts and memories of yelling and fighting flit across his mind.

When he moves a hand to hold the bottom of his belly, as he had become accustomed to doing every time he moved around with a baby inside of him, he finds something that freezes his blood. His shirt is stretched out, after months of forming to Dean's new shape, and hangs from him like a circus tent. His breathing picks up.

For as he lifts the edge of his shirt, past his shaking knees and over his aching hips, a thick layer of gauze is resting right below his bellybutton.

No.

No.

Nonononononono.

The silence of the room around him is deafening. A strangled whining of pain radiates through the room and he turns, expecting to see some injured animal beside him, but he find himself alone. He is the injured animal.

He's crying.

He's screaming.

He's holding his flatter stomach like he hasn't eaten in years. Cradling the space like fragile priceless China.

The door opens but he doesn't turn, he doesn't care who's feet come running at him to most likely silence him forever. The space between his legs is warm, blood, he'd heard about that, bleeding after birth, but he doesn't know why its happening to him. He didn't give birth. Somebody STOLE his baby right out of his body like it never belonged to him in the first place.

Hands grab him from all sides, if they didn't have to hold him still, they would be shielding their ears from the sheer intensity of Dean's wailing. This was not something new here, omegas were constantly separated from their pups, long before they could ever truly bond.

By the animalistic growls emitting from his body each time they accidentally touch his waist show just how late they were at separating the two. Alistair and his favorites. He always let their pregnancies go on too long. Past the point of being able to claim babies as premature or surviving a horrible childbirth. Their timeline was fast moving, everyone wanted babies.

Omega babies were coveted, just like omegas. If it smelled remotely like its parent, it was worth something. Dean's pup smelled just like him. Innocent. Sweet. Edible.

Alistair only held it once, staring deep into its eyes before it was passed off to continue some shoddy adoption process. It was a shame, he would have loved to see Dean carry to full term.

* * *

He's in a room, secluded far from any recently kidnapped omegas. He knows why. Alistair doesn't want the newbies hearing Dean's wails. Doesn't want them to see their future and damage the process by doing something stupid like acting out or getting themselves killed.

He's sitting in the corner, subtly rocking as his hands hold the slowly bleeding space between his legs. The undergarments they had so unwillingly bestowed onto him were already soaked through with his blood. From his wrist to his inner elbows he's covered in blood. It won't stop. Why won't it stop?

He aches. Everything hurts.

When the door opens and the scent of his brother warms his nostrils he doesn't move. He doesn't care. Why should he? He can't claim to be the sole protector over his brother if he can't even protect his own pup.

Sam's body hits the ground as he's pushed into another room, this one darker than the last and with fewer occupants than before. He had been in a room with at least ten other people, all betas if his nose was right. One of the guards had been going over simple care taking guidelines for some of the recently weaned omegas. They did not look anything like the other guards either.

Sam shook, fist clenched and rage slowly boiling over the top as he watched a woman give them a lesson on proper health care. What medical professional would assist Alistair and his goons like this? Who was that uncaring of their patients to help them willingly steal babies from parents?

Its when he sees a shape huddled in the corner of a dark room that he finally calms. They actually let him return to his brother. How stupid were they?

A bag is thrown in after him, full of the supplies he will undoubtedly need to cater to Dean's needs, but he ignores it for the time being. Slowly, he gets to his feet and makes his way over to Dean's rocking shape.

As soon as he's within three feet of his brother, he stops.

He can smell blood, but even stronger then that iron tint, he can smell his brother's pain.

Its enough to drive a whine out of his own throat. He could barely smell his brother, even in his pregnant state, but now? He wishes they had ripped his nose off completely.

This smell is one that brings him to his knees. That wells up tears in his eyes, even though it is not his loss to bear. It breaks his heart and shatters his soul, because this is the worst pain his brother has ever felt. And he knows it, just by the scent of his tears.

"D-Dean?" He trembles out. Of course, his brother doesn't respond, he doesn't expect him to.

He doesn't even seem to register that there is another person in the room with him. Someone could probably slaughter Sam right in this room and Dean wouldn't notice.

He wipes the tears from his cheeks and forces himself to work.

This is not his loss and he needs to help his brother as best as he can. So, he's walking back in the direction of his health kit before Dean can rock back into the wall.

Carrying it over to where he once sat, he opens it, rifling through it like a practiced hunter would. Assessing all of his tools, and gathering items he knows he will need in order to put his brother back together again.

Not only was pairing them together a mistake, but by giving him back his hands, instead of tying him to a chair, Sam could bring Dean back. He could give him the power Alistair had grown use to taking again and again.

Dean wasn't going to be alone this time because he had Sam. They had each other.

* * *

Dean knows he should probably say something. Anything to let his brother know that he's aware of his presence, but he doesn't want to speak. He doesn't even think himself capable of words at this point. Those people stole his voice when they stole his child.

He knows he's whimpering, like a child, when Sam urges him to turn and face him. He can see the surprise on his brother's face when he sees where his hands are and how saturated he is in his own blood. But it doesn't bother him longer than he lets it. Sam simply moves his hands and starts working on him, like Dean was his patient instead of his brother.

Like he did when he was injured on hunts.

He was compartmentalizing and Dean could not have been more proud of him. Yes, he twitched and cried throughout the entire process, especially when Sam had to change the gauze around his lower abdomen, but he let him because this was Sam. This was his only pup that he got to keep. They wouldn't take him away, not if he had any say in the matter.

"S'my" He manages weakly. His brother looks up at his face for the first time since he began repairing the damage to his body. He looks concerned, he probably has a right to, but Dean doesn't care about that. He only cares that his brother is here.

"I missed you." He says with a dying smile on his lips.

It isn't until after Dean is lying cradled in his brother's arms that he hears him respond. Its quiet, like he's afraid Dean will actually hear him, but he does.

"I missed you too Dee."


	12. Third Time's a Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam breaks out a plan.

He's silent for two days after his admission of missing his little brother. Sam wakes each day expecting Dean to be right where they had fallen asleep, side by side, and is still surprised when he finds him curled in the corner the next day.

When Sam finally coaxes him to his feet, he walks with his hands wrapped tightly around his belly. It saddens Sam to the point that he's not as eager to have Dean up and walking around their room. He doesn't know where they took the baby. When he asked yesterday, all he was granted in response was a gash over his eyebrow that stings every time he raises them in question.

By the third day he wakes to Dean, once again in the corner, but this time he's singing.

"Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better..."

His voice is empty and full of so much wallowing despair that Sam preferred when Dean wasn't speaking at all.

He sounds nothing like the warm Omega parent he had grown to know, especially with this song. He knew this song because Dean had sang it to him nearly every night until he was seven and John had said he was too old to be sung to. If he were being entirely honest with himself, he believes John couldn't bear one more night listening to Dean practically singing their mother's song to a baby that wasn't his own.

But he was, truthfully. Dean had raised him, especially in this hell hole. They had no one but each other and watching Dean, his one true and devoted parent, slowly fade away was killing him. He can't take it any longer.

If Dean dies, surely he'll die with him.

And Bobby would kill them if they just gave up.

It still didn't help him in getting his brother back on his feet. He knew if they broke out of here again, it would have to be one baby short.

Dean wasn't going to like that.

It takes a week before Dean even acknowledges Sam's plan.

Come meal time Sam will be waiting behind the door and pounce on the guard. Dean will have to hot wire another vehicle, if they make it as far as the garage. And this time, they won't stop, they can't because if they do they are as good as dead.

* * *

Night falls, or at least, they are driven bored enough to fall into a heavy sleep once more. When they wake, Sam is pleasantly surprised to see Dean isn't sitting in the corner, but waiting diligently at the door.

He doesn't look at Sam, too afraid that if he does he'll lose his nerve. But he can't lose his nerve because he has to find his pup and Sam would never willingly search this place with him. His hands are shaking and his womb physically aches at the thought of his missing baby. His dreams were filled with thoughts of just how beautiful this little creature was. Having a pup never crossed his mind because he already had his brother, what more could he possibly need?

But Sammy was older now, he wasn't always going to let Dean pester him with his mother henning, and he knew that. He really did, but he chose to ignore those instincts, up until that pup first kicked him in his ribs. All he could think of now was crooning over his baby, bathing them in soft kissing and never letting them go. And he never would again, not willingly.

So when the door opens and Sam pounces, Dean doesn't look back when he sprints out the door.

Not even when he hears Sammy calling out after him.


	13. Reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean doesn't get far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry the last chapter was so short, you know how suspense works. Small pieces that chip away at your heart until you die and all that shit.

The walls are cold, the light is dim, and he knows Sam will never forgive him.

But he can't pretend that he didn't fight tooth and nail for either of his children. He couldn't live with himself if he didn't try. Sam was going to hate him, he's nearly turned back a hundred times. So many times he's gone and lost and found himself twice. 

Hearing the pure betrayal in Sam's voice drove a spike through his heart, one that he would never be able to remove, even if they survived this. Even if Sam could forgive him, he would never forgive himself. John had always said to look after him, like he would his own pup, and there he went just throwing him to the wolves. What kind of person did that to their kids?

Tears are pooling in his eyes once again, but this time he knows he can't blame it on his hormones. He did this to himself.

He's nearly shaking with the effort it takes to control his sobs when his hand fumbles over a door.

The handle gives and his heart swells with hope. This has to be it. The room smells like odor neutralizers. Pups have to have scent to bond with their parents, that's just a fact. He's tugging the door open before he can think anything bad of it.

Dark suits and puzzled expressions greet him on the other side of the door. A meeting is taking place and there is not a baby in sight. Only businessmen with concerned looks on their faces as they look at him in his rags and poorly healing stomach. Standing at the head of a large conference table is Alistair, and Dean knows he's done for.

So he starts screaming.

Feet are rushing and hands are grabbing him as soon as he tries to make a break for it. They aren't gentle with his stomach, but neither is he, he kicks with total abandon, landing a few good shots but pulling the fine sutures that Sammy fixed him with.

Oh God. Sam.

This was it. They were going to kill him and he was never going to see his brother again.

He doesn't know he's screaming again until a hand claps over his mouth. He bites down on it without a second thought, it tastes disgusting like how Alistair's breath smells after a day of smoking with some of his business partners.

He rips his eyes open at that thought, suddenly finding yellow eyes resting on his face with an unforgiving glare.

"You little conniving bitch. You think you can just run away from me? Haven't you already learned your lesson with this one?" He says jabbing a finger right into his now bleeding stomach. When he cries it is high pitched and he doesn't hold anything back. Everything hurts, he wants it all to end, why won't they kill him? Why can't he just die?

Alistair's hand is back on his face, clutching his chin and dragging his attention back to his ugly snarl. Dean only hopes that the bastards back in that conference room are seeing this. They can't all be his hired help. He must have some sway over someone in a higher position. Pulling someone's strings. Some suit is going to be wary of their contract when they realize they've been dealing with the devil this whole time.

"Listen here you indignant little twat. If you don't silence that incessant screaming I'll make it so you'll never say another word again."

The threat shuts him up, but Dean knows Alistair must favor him, he should have been dead by now. If Alistair didn't kill him, then he would never follow through with that threat, and even if he did, Dean could live with the repercussions. He only needed speech for two words, and he willingly said them now. Right to Alistair's face.

"Fuck you." A gob of spit leaves his mouth so forcefully, Alistair does not have a chance to flinch away before it hits his cheek. He's wiping it away with a growing smile that churns Dean's already aching stomach.

"Very well my little pet. Silence it is."

* * *

When he sees his brother's face he knows that something is wrong. He's standing unsteadily and his eyes are unfocused. Like he was drugged. He can't assess the damage with the amount of arms and legs shuffling around in his view.

"Sammy?" He calls out, not even flinching when the guards tug his hair in an attempt to shut him up.

His brother's eyes fall upon his face and a smile warms his cheeks. Oh yeah, that kid is definitely high.

"Hey Dee, I'm so glad you're back." He starts and when they carry him past his brother, he finally gets a good look at his legs to see what the damage is. But he's flinching away before he can look any closer.

Red. Red. Dark red. Blood. Missing. OhGod. 

He's gagging, tearing his stitches even further as he fights their grip. The lower part of Sam's leg is wrapped in a thick layer of gauze, but even with the undoubtedly many layers it seems that blood has managed to seep through. His other leg seems unaffected, but Dean can tell its shaking with this sudden extra weight. Even if there's a guard holding onto Sammy's arm, he's going to grow tired. Dean only has so much time to tell him everything he needs to before they silence him forever.

"S-Sammy, buddy?" His brother is still smiling even as they are strapping Dean down to another chair.

"Sammy, you know that I love you, right?" If its even possible, Sam's smile grows even bigger.

"Of course I knew that Dee, you're my big brother!"

A rough hand forces his skull back to the head rest of his seat, but this time a strap makes its way over his forehead. He has to do this now, because they won't wait for him.

"Sammy, I want you to know that I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry that I left you, we should have ran together, I'll never leave you again. Do you hear me, I love you s-so much." He's crying now, fighting with the hands that strap his arms and legs down, but its useless.

He's pinned and tied and the doctor is in. So, as well as his neck permits, he looks over at his doped up brother once more.

"I love you kid, and we're going to make it out of here. I promise you that, okay?"

Sam's face drops, his brows furrow as he takes in the steady stream of tears on his brother's face. Something is wrong, he knows it deep down, but he can't tell right now because of the fuzzy feeling in his head.

"What's the matter? Don't you know my big brother is going to get us out of here?" He says in such a child-like tone that Dean's openly sobbing now.

"Get him out of here. I don't care if he's stoned out of his mind. Get him out of here. GET HIM OUT!" He screams, pulling against the leather straps like a man with nothing to lose. When the strength of the buckles wanes, even Alistair finds himself surprised.

He takes a step forward, blocking Dean's line of sight so Sam is no longer swaying before him. He's leaning over his omega's sweet lithe body, tongue caressing the side of his face before he speaks.

"You don't get to tell me what you want. I treated you with nothing but kindness and this is how you repay me? You're brother wasn't fast enough to keep up with you, was he Deano? Looks like he got caught on the way out. Now its your turn for your punishment. Maybe this time you'll realize you are nothing without me. I gave you everything and I have the power to take it all away."

He's nodding to the doctor, ready to start the procedure when he leans in once more.

"Say goodbye to your brother Dean. I'm sure he'll miss the sounds of your sweet little voice like I will."

Dean snaps at him, his teeth clicking together even though he knows he can't reach this vial monster. It is only with the descending mask over his face does he take the man's suggestion to heart.

"I love you Sammy."

And for some reason his brother responds, even though he doesn't deserve it. "I love you too Dee." 

He faintly hears his mother singing as he slowly falls under.


	14. Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes after what seems like the most peaceful sleep he's had in years. But when he wakes, he wishes he could fall back into the bosom of that peaceful dream. Because when he wakes, he's in hell again and everything hits him at once.

The faint wafting rays of sunshine warm his cheeks. He can practically taste the water of an unseen ocean as he hears the sounds of waves crashing in the distance. Faded and calm, like a whisper, he hears her.

She's so far but singing so brazenly that he swears she's only a few feet away. When he turns, he cannot see anything, not the warm sun, not the crashing waves, and not her.

His mother. She's here, he knows it, just by the contempt feeling that seems to swallow him whole. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought this is what heaven was like. Peace. Blissful peace that reached out to the tips of his fingers and embraced him deep inside of his core. She's here.

"Anytime you feel the pain, Hey Jude, refrain..."

The heat of the invisible sun caresses his cheek, and he tries not to lean into it, to afraid that if he does it will vanish.

"Don't carry the world upon your shoulders, for you know that it's a fool who plays it cool...

He closes his eyes, succumbing to the darkness of this heaven, willingly letting the words soak over him. Drowning him in safety. But even in this heaven, hell can still touch him. He doesn't realize that until his mother's voice distorts.

Groveling, grumbling, gnashing and low she sings, "By making his world colder."

He's awake suddenly, the waves of heaven's ocean splashing over his head and stripping him naked when he breathes.

Mom

His mother, her voice is gone. Along with the safety it provided. And he can't breathe.

He tries breathing through his nostrils, only managing a sliver of air, and starts panicking.

Where is she?

Where is she?

Where iS SHE? WHY. Oh God.

There's restraints keeping him from moving, his fingers twitch, hands balling up into fists as he struggles beneath their hold. No. No. This is wrong. He was in heaven. Why did he have to wake up? Why did he have to wake up in this hell?

He goes to open his mouth and scream out his own pain of being thrust back into this world, only to snap his teeth back together and grimace in pain. It hurts. Why does it hurt?

He tries again, this time slower, opening his shaking lips and forcing himself to regurgitate one word. Anything. A syllable. A name. A cry.

Only whimpers leave him, wounded sounds that should belong only in the mouths of beasts. 

Hands are touching him without his consent, but before he can fight their patting petitions, Sammy's face comes into view.

"Dean, stop, you have to calm down or you'll hurt yourself." 

His words do little to sooth him, because now he knows that something is wrong. He's remembering everything and it all hits him like a roundhouse kick to the head.

He can't talk.

He can't speak.

He won't ever be able to say another word again.

Alistair finally silenced him.

"DEAN!" Sam barks, loud and authoritative.

It sounds so much like an Alpha's tone that Dean stills. He see's his brother hovering over him, hands held out waiting to touch him, but not without his approval. He nods without a second thought, finally breathing well enough to take in the room.

Its empty. There is no imposing bed that Dean would one day have to hoist himself onto to pleasure someone he hates. There is no desk that Sam can busy himself when Dean pesters him too much. The only piece of furniture in the room is the chair that Dean now sits in. They are alone, without Alistair's comforts for the first time in years.

He doesn't want to admit how much he misses it.

"I left you in the chair because I kinda figured you'd wake up like that." Sam says, his voice slowly quieting as he finishes. He's freeing Dean of the restraints in no time, but no matter how hard he tries to hide the wince of pain, or the hobbling around, Dean sees him. And he remembers that too.

And as soon as he's free, his hands subconsciously go to his stomach as he moves. He's forcing Sam to sit down before he can protest.

Sam's shaking by the time the weight of his growing body collapses onto the chair.

"D-Dean, it's fine, don't look at it, I'm okay." He fights weakly, his hands moving up to paw at him. Dean swats his hands away, slowly kneeling down so he's at eye level with his wrapped leg.

He blinks.

It's wrapped tightly, as it should be, and the dressing looks freshly changed. Sam must have done that. He was getting good at patching them both up by this point. Dean only wishes that he could have been awake to help him. He should have been because this is all his fault.

He blinks again and there are tears in his eyes.

Seeing his single foot dangling from the chair is what breaks the dam holding his tears at bay.

He hates himself for this. Sam will live with this forever now. Sam should hate him. He should want to hurt him, to-to kill him.

Below his knee, just a few inches down his leg, there's nothing. Its gone, cut off by one of Alistair's goons because they tried to run.

He raises a shaking hand up to his brother's knee, not willing to meet his brother's eyes for fear of seeing hatred in them. He's hurt because Dean left him. He abandoned him and now Sam looks like a desperate wolf that had chewed off their own foot.

He goes to open his mouth, just to apologize, but of course nothing comes out. And that makes him sob all the more louder.

His brother is crying too, not that he can see yet, but he knows exactly what Dean would be saying right now. He had dreamt of Dean's last words the previous night and they still rang in his head. He knew his brother had left him, but it had been for his pup, the one that Alistair had forced him to watch be cut out of Dean's stomach.

The pain it left him in was nothing compared to how Dean must have felt. He feels worse when he thinks about their escape plan again. He hadn't even thought about the pup. He was ready to leave Dean's only pup just to escape this place. He deserved to have his leg cut off, hell, he deserved to have his whole head cut off. What kind of brother, no, what kind of uncle was he to just abandon his brother's only son like that.

"Dean, stop, please look at me." He begs.

It takes awhile to coax his eyes to his face, but when he does Sam smiles. Its weak and watery, but its genuine.

"It's just a leg, I have another one." The attempt at humor only serves to make his brother cry harder, burying his face in Sammy's lap like a child.

He's curled around him, patting his back and trying to pry him off of his legs so he can try another approach at placating him.

"Dean, look at me, does it look like I'm blaming you for this?" He says, tugging Dean off of him with two hard and unforgiving hands. His brother has gone silent, well, as silent as his already mute state can get. He looks confused, ready to argue even though he cannot speak. Before he can try, Sam's cutting him off.

"No." He says, squeezing his upper arms tightly. "You left to look for your baby. I-I don't blame you Dee."

Now its his turn to look away.

"I wasn't-" he starts, choking on the words because they sound so selfish when he thinks about it. "I wasn't thinking about your pup when I suggested we escape."

His hands drop, giving Dean enough space to pull away from him if he wants to. But he doesn't. He's too shocked to move.

Was he...saying that they were just...just supposed to LEAVE his pup here? In this place?

"I wouldn't blame you if you hated me, I hate myself right now. You weren't even ready to try another escape, not after they-" Dean snaps his head up at that. He knows what Sam's going to say, but he can't. He can't hear his brother say the words. It will only make his stitches hurt.

"It's my fault, so don't even think that I would blame you for this." His head is hanging, disappointed in himself because this is not how Dean raised him to act. They never left anyone behind. Especially not family.

Dean is still kneeling in front of him, his head his hung like he's weighing his options, wondering how he should regard his brother. Or even if he should continue calling him as such.

"I'm sorry Dee."

Dean's shoulders move, he's sighing, decision lifting a weight from his shoulders when he lifts his chin. As he and Sam lock eyes, there's a wordless conversation that takes place and Sam knows he's forgiven, but this can never happen again.

"I know Dee, we'll figure it out. All three of us."


	15. The Rug from Beneath You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean slowly get accustomed to their new way of life outside of Alistair's lap of luxury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you wondering, worry no further, Dean still has his tongue. What the doctor did to him was a laryngectomy, they removed his larynx, or more commonly called the "voice box". He can still make faces at his brother, no body panic.

A pattern begins to form with each new day they meet.

It isn't intentional, not at first, but their escape plans were cut short along with Sam's leg. Now there were a thousand reasons why they didn't need to leave.

They had steady food coming in, on the streets Dean would often times have to work hours upon hours of under the table work just to afford a modicum of grocery money. On the odd chance that he could swindle money from some dumb college kids in pool, he did. But after having his ass thoroughly handed to him by three unhappy betas and their two alpha friends, he tried to steer clear from the bar scene.

Here they were together, no threats of John's drunken rage or mystic supernatural monsters. Just humans.

Even if they didn't act like it.

Here Dean was close to his pup.

Call him crazy, but he knew that they hadn't taken his baby, not yet. Whether his tryst in the conference room spooked potential buyers or something else, he just knew that his baby was still within reach.

Here Sam could protect Dean, even with the one functioning leg, but he was getting better. They had thankfully managed to avoid infection and fever, but Dean hardly let him do anything when it came to work.

If Dean wanted to move their single piece of furniture, Sam was to sit and watch. If he so much as twitched toward helping his brother, he was growled at.

Growled at. Like he was some menace!

Though, in Dean's defense, he couldn't very well voice his displeasure in the matter. Or in any matter for that fact.

It was crossing over into the second week and Sam had just finally been able to look at his brother's throat. It was just like his stomach, he was so protective of his healing wounds, he hardly let his brother change the gauze around his abdomen.

Thankfully, his collar had been removed, they hadn't any idea when they would force it back on him. Perhaps that was why he was so protective of his neck. A sense of freedom in this hell, without his collar he did not belong to Alistair, and if he ignored the scar on his thigh he could pretend he was free.

A small incision had been made at Dean's throat, healed over with a healthy looking scab after a liberal coating of ointment by Sam. Just below his chin, above his Adam's apple his throat had been swollen. The tongue in his mouth practically useless after the surgery. Only useful when he drank copious amounts of water or swallowed the disgusting sludge Sam forced him to eat.

Sam was both relieved and annoyed that he could not remember the surgery itself. Too doped up after his own adventure under the scalpel to remember hardly anything from that day.

He absently reaches for his leg, his hand stopping just before the bandages, like he was trying to see if it really was gone. Even though he knew it was missing every time he tried to stand up in the mornings.

He never hated being right so much before.

Dean's awake now, actively trying to braid Sam's hair, when they come.

The door swings open and two men enter, Dean's hands wrap around his little brother's shoulders, pulling him close to his chest in case they try to take him away. He can't have another pup be removed from his arms. He just can't.

But, with one goon bypassing Sam entirely, Dean goes rigid.

They only want him.

The other goon reaches down and drags Sam out of his arms before he can protest. Unbalanced and weak, Sam struggles against two hands. Before he could have easily taken him, but now? He doesn't have a good leg to stand on and Dean's beginning to panic. He can tell now, just by the slight change of his breath.

Sam forces himself to calm down, if anything to calm his brother down as well. They lock eyes as the man drags Dean to his feet by his upper arm. Dean doesn't try to fight him, his arms too busy shielding his stomach.

But he's whimpering.

It's a sound Sam never wants to hear again, but he knows Dean has nothing else to express his fears. He can't snark or quip his way out of their leading hands. He can't flirt his way back up this fucked up ladder. He can't even properly cry.

"Dean, it's okay, just go with them, don't make it any harder then it has to be." Sam says, undoubtedly disappointing their father from whatever trench he lies in.

He's looking over his shoulder, trying to memorize Sam's face as the man leads him out of their room.

Sam sags to the ground as soon as Dean is out of sight.

* * *

The halls are the same morbid pictures that they were the last time he had witnessed them. Though now, there's a certain cold to them that reminds him of winter. Could it be that the seasons have already begun to change? He can't remember the last time he saw snow.

If he were being completely honest, he hated the stuff. Never had a jacket big enough or warm enough to keep out the cold or dry his weary bones after a long day. He hated how red his nose always was, only illuminating the freckles upon his face that he disliked so much.

The man, followed by the goon that had held Sammy back, lead him to another door. They shove him inside the room with little care for his wellbeing and close the door as soon as they cross the threshold.

It's not dark, surprisingly. There is a light here, illuminating the room in a way that makes it look both welcoming and threatening at the same time.

It is welcoming only because of the addition of furnishing and a rug. Threatening because Alistair stands waiting on said rug, but he is not alone. Another man is with him, and judging by his smell, he's an alpha.

Dean instantly dislikes him.

"Ah, my darling girl, I'm so glad to see you. I was worried about you after the surgery. I'm glad to see our little beta has taken such good care of you." Alistair says, talking as if the other man in the room is not present.

Dean's eyes never leave the alpha. Damn him for challenging the man, but he could care less, he wouldn't willingly turn away for anything.

That is...until he smells it.

The smell of home and love and warmth that he must look away.

Beyond the rug lies a small crib, a blue blanket bundling something that he knows belongs to him.

He makes a move toward the crib, but the alpha's growl stops him.

"Ah yes, I see you've spotted our little tyke. He's a fighter, I'll give you that one, but he's so much like his mother I can hardly stand it." He turns, as if the introduction of their child should not affect Dean as much as it does.

"Dean dear, I'd like you to meet an acquaintance of mine, you may call him Azazel." Alistair says, his face showing little emotion. Knowing Dean cannot address himself, Alistair continues.

"Azazel, this is my little omega, isn't she just beautiful?"

He twitches at the inappropriate gender, but he bites his tongue letting it slide this one time. He cannot let anything keep him away from his baby.

"My, what a delectable specimen." Azazel says. His voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard, but he speaks as if he were as fluid as a snake.

"Dean dear, I've decided to try something new. Azazel and I have brokered a deal, if you will, about the state of my business and in exchange, he has asked for an heir to his own estate." Alistair pauses, waiting to see the light in Dean's eyes before he continues. "You see, his wife Lilith cannot bear children, so I suggested you. My favorite and most trustworthy pet."

His eyes must be the size of saucers. They have his full attention now, his stomach is churning and he's clutching his love handles like they hold the keys to his freedom. He's shaking his head before he can think anything of it.

But instead of angering Alistair, like he feared and hoped he would have, Alistair chuckles.

"Oh, my darling girl, we've already agreed. And if you want any part in mothering our child, I suggest you present for Mr. Azazel."

He's taking a step back, aware that there is only one exit in this room and the two guards block it. But he'd rather be kicked to death than be forced into submission by that lecherous man. He's wheezing now, unable to control his breathing, not with the added stress or Sammy to help him through it.

He can't.

He can't do this.

He has Sammy to protect.

He has a pup to care for.

He has a pup.

He has a pup.

He has a pup. Hehasapuphehasapuphehasapup-

"Darlin' I suggest you present before boss man makes us hold you down and take it." A voice drawls in his ear, pulling him out of his panic like a bucket of cold water poured over head.

He looks up slowly. Wondering just who could have spoken to him.

Its one of the guards, the one that held Sam back, but he doesn't understand.

No other guard has ever spoken to him.

Actually. He's never seen this man before.

He's walking back toward the rug with the subtle push the guard gives him without a second thought.

In a daze, he's lowering himself to his knees, his hands still covering his belly even though he knows now where his pup is.

His pup.

He has to do this for his pup.

He turns around, shuffling on his knees and feeling small shocks of static electricity tickle his legs as he does so. He doesn't lift his eyes to the guard, not while he's lowering his undergarments to the floor. He doesn't look when he's bent over, and lifting his shirt up to reveal his backside.

No, he doesn't look. Not until there's a knot locked inside of him and he has tears streaming down his face. But when he looks up, he's surprised.

He sees something in the guard that he has never seen in any of the others.

Pity.


	16. Benny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the guards reveals themselves, a plan starts brewing.

The two guards are holding him up by his arms, his legs too weak to even manage the journey back to their room.

He's sure he's still crying but he doesn't care.

Alistair hadn't even let him see their pup.

All he had now was his little scent on his nose and an ache in his backside.

Sam is up and snarling when he sees the shape his brother is brought back in. Catching his brother when the guards drop him to the ground, he's curled around him, nosing at his neck, trying to figure out all of the confusing smells on his skin.

He smells like Dean, muted to his beta senses, but he smells like something more. Something with a sweeter rind to it.

Instead of leather and pie he smells like apples and earthy soil. Like a little version of himself.

"Dee?" He begins slowly. Dean's nudging his head into his brother's neck, not paying any mind to the words that are trickling from his worried lips.

Azazel knotted him more times than he could count. Than he could physically take. It hurt sitting here, even if he wasn't moving, the added pressure on his backside made him squirm for a better position.  
The movement didn't go unnoticed by Sam. He was instantly pulling him in closer to his throat, trying to exude comforting scents like he used to when he was a little alpha.

"Did- Did you find the baby?"

He nods, but without the ability to speak, he doesn't elaborate. He isn't exactly in the mood for charades either.

"Are you..." Sam trails off, wondering just how well he'll fair if he finishes that question. Dean knows that he's not okay. If he's asked the question, he'll probably lose his shit.

Maybe he should. Just this once, see how Alistair likes his wild side. The feral beast that lies within him underneath this frail and weak mask he's wearing.

But now, he's beginning to wonder if it really is a mask or if he's been this way the whole time. He was weak with the father, he was weak on hunts, he was weak in bar fights and heated school brawls. Hell only made that clearer.

He wasn't a hunter, he wasn't an alpha, he wasn't anything but a hole to use as Alistair saw fit.

And before he knew it, he was asleep.

* * *

He's bleeding.

While Dean's stitches remained perfectly intact, he's bleeding somewhere far more...intimate.

Sam sits there, wondering just how well it would turn out if Dean woke up while he was cleaning him. But, if the subtle growls and sleepy sounds of displeasure mean anything, he'd probably rip his head off if he caught Sam doing this.

He's wiping him down in the most clinical way possible, his eyes barely ever travel further than his brother's belly button, but as Dean's primary health care provider, he needs to help him. He can't just leave him like, well, like this.

He's got the start of two large bruises on his hips, low and shaped like hands. His more private parts are red and irritated from misuse and a knotting that Sam knows Alistair isn't capable of fulfilling.

That means someone else had taken his brother.

He's covering Dean up at the thought.

A groan pulls his head out from his impromptu examination, Dean's awake.

While sign language isn't exactly available knowledge to them here, they've come up with their own signs that Dean has eloquently asked Sam to translate.

The wave of his hand and the middle finger that he shoots toward him means, "What the hell are you doing?" Which of course, he covers up smoothly.

"Nothing, I was just checking your stitches." It isn't entirely a lie, he was looking at the pinkness around the thread of his lower abdomen. He will be ready to have them taken out in the next couple of days. Dean will find some joy out of that. He's been complaining nonstop about how much they itch.

And just like he heard Sam's thoughts, he reaches a hand down to scratch at them.

"Dean, we've talked about this. If you itch, you could split one and we'll have to start all over again." To which Dean replies by smacking Sam's hand away and sitting up much too quickly for the damage and soreness he must be feeling.

It's almost instant, Dean realizes his mistake, as he sits upright and feels the throbbing bruise that is his ass.

He wants to curse, to scream, to hit something. To do anything besides what he ultimately does.

He whimpers.

Sam is cooing at him like a baby when he pulls him into a very much unwanted embrace. It doesn't help that he can still smell faint traces of his pup on Sam's shirt when they hug. It just makes him burrow further into his chest, pawing at his back like he's falling off of the edge of a cliff.

"We're okay, it's just you and me Dean, we're going to be all right, can you take in a deep breath for me?" He asks, only pulling back to see Dean nod his head.

He can feel Sammy's warmth on his own chest, they're pressed so closely together Dean feels the rise and fall of his chest so much that he eventually starts to mimic him. Sam waits until he's sagging in his arms and doesn't feel like he's falling anymore. Sam pats his back, gentle and caring.

"There we go, see? We're good."

Dean nods again.

Yeah, he's good. He's fine. He can breathe.

Their door is pulled open and Dean subconsciously tightens his hold on Sam, just as he did when he was first taken out of his arms.

Instead of the usual duo, only one guard enters the room, and he's the same one that had spoken to Dean yesterday.

Sam is eyeing him warily, instantly on edge when he sees the man. He doesn't want Dean to be taken back to wherever they took him to yesterday. He won't stand for anymore of this abuse.

Dean though, he has an interesting expression on his face, curious.

It isn't until the guard takes a step toward him does Dean's expression drop. When a protective growl leaves his gritted teeth, the guard lifts his hands, trying to show them both that he means no harm.

"Hey there chief." He says, talking like they were old friends.

It's Sam that voices the next growl.

"What does Alistair want? Didn't they already take enough from Dean yesterday?" Sam asks, no longer acting like he doesn't know exactly what happened to Dean.

Hearing Sam state it so blankly, so blatant, has Dean flinching in his arms. Oddly enough, it has the guard reacting in a similar fashion. His hands drop, and his eyes fall from Dean's face, like he cannot handle the shame that comes with looking at Dean's body after that.

"I-I didn't want that to happen, I ain't even supposed to be here chief." He tries to take another step toward them but Sam is pushing Dean completely behind him now. The guard rubs a tired hand down his face, scratching at the beginnings of a thick beard.

"Look, I ain't here for fun. Or money. I'm not one of Alistair's guards. I came here looking for someone." Sam sobers at that. Even if he could be telling the truth he won't budge from where he kneels before Dean. His brother has taken enough beatings and lashing from monsters and their father enough that he'd willingly throw himself at this man.

"I ain't gon' do nothin. Name's Benny, my sister went missing a few months ago an I tracked her here, cept...the trail went cold." The guard, or Benny as he so willingly entrusted them with, said.

He may not trust the man, but even Sam knows a hired goon from a good guy. Whatever Benny claims to be looking for, it isn't for a taste of his brother's ass and that's all Sam cares about. So, showing Benny that he's willing to hear him out, he reveals a sliver of his brother's body, Dean's eyes already on the strange man's face.

"Talk, we ask the questions, not you." Sam says, voice stern and unwavering. It makes Dean smile, he would have made such a great alpha. He curls his fingers in the back of Sam's shirt at that thought.

"My sister's name is Andrea, she went missin' five months ago an I haven't seen her since. The night she disappeared she was at our father's restaurant and all we got on tape is the car's plates. I got a buddy that works at the sheriff's department and had him run the tags, finally tracked them here."

He isn't out of breath or wondering if they will buy his story, he doesn't care what they think. He came here and he's looking for something, if he can bust them out at the same time, well, Sam will just have to learn to trust people more.

"You haven't heard anyone by th'name 'Andrea' have ya'll?" While, Sam wants to snip at him and say something about them being the ones to ask questions, he also can understand where the guy is coming from.

"Can't say we have. There wasn't exactly a meet and greet during our orientation here." Sam quips. His brother feels emboldened by Sam's snark and nudges him in the back. When Sam's attention falls onto him, he taps his nose and then nods toward the man. Without needing anything further, Sam asks.

"What does she smell like?"

Only then does Benny look threatening, like sharing his sister's sent could break the small amount of trust they have slowly built. When neither of the brothers moved or reacted in a threatening manner, Benny reached into his coat pocket. Looking at the apparel that he's dawned, Dean realizes rather belated, that Benny doesn't even look like the other guards.

The black coat he wears is not a fine suit, but a wool petty coat, he's wearing workers boots, not Italian slippers. He's nothing like the other guards, he doesn't know how he hasn't been caught yet.

Out of his pocket he holds a delicate lace handkerchief. It looks old, worn and fine in detail, when Benny passes it over, he does so reluctantly. Sam's gentle when he holds it, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling directly. It smells like an omega, like Dean, sweet and smooth, but she doesn't smell like Dean at all, instead she smells like warm soup and some kind of delicious dessert. He passes it over to Dean, knowing he'll have better luck remembering the scent.

When he breathes in the smell, it makes him smile. This is a good omega and he knows it. He also knows that he's smelled it before, probably in one of the many rooms he's passed in their frequent attempts at escaping. He nods to Sam and offers it back to the man.

"Familiar?" Benny asks, a look of hope flooding his eyes when he asks. All he offers is a shrug, he doesn't know if she's still alive and doesn't want to give the man too much in the aspect of fairytale dreaming.

"It's been awhile since either of us walked the walls here, but smells down here are different. Everyone is either pregnant or panicking."

When Sam speaks, Dean watches Benny's face fall at the word 'pregnant', and he suddenly feels the overwhelming urge to hug the man. Except, he could very well be pregnant too, and Benny hadn't helped him. It's then that he turns his back to the man, completely finished with conversing.

Both men catch on to the dramatic change in Dean's demeanor, but only one understands why he's so upset. Dropping to his knees, he hangs his head, ashamed for what he allowed to happen right in front of his eyes.

"Dean, I'm sorry Cher, if I coulda done somethin' know that I would have. You hear me? I can't risk my sister though, I got to find her." Dean wants to be sympathetic, but he can't. Not when he's still feeling alpha spunk dripping out of him and it hurts when he sits too quickly.

"You were there?" Sam speaks up, his eyes leaving Dean's back to look at the crestfallen man. "What happened? Do you know who did this to him?" He asks, not considering Dean's discomfort in the topic. It seems that Benny is as uncomfortable talking about Azazel as he is, if his drawn out sigh means anything.

"You might want to talk to him about that, I ain't too keen on repeatin what happened." Benny says, nodding in Dean's direction. It suddenly hits Sam and Dean that Benny doesn't know Dean can't speak. It may be inappropriate, but its enough to make Dean laugh. Talk about it. Gee why didn't he think about that?

Sam opens his mouth only to close it shut, he doesn't even know where to begin on all that has happened to them. If he tries, he's sure Benny will go running for the hills. Eventually, through Dean's steadily increasing laughs and wheezes, Sam manages to explain to Benny just how fucked up they are.

"Um, my brother, he can't...he can't talk. They, well Alistair actually, had one of his doctors cut Dean's voice box out." As soon as the words leave Sam's mouth, Dean up on his feet. He's pacing the laughing has segued into slowly forming tears and his hands are clutching the sides of his head.

He wants to beat his head against the wall, he can't take it here anymore, not for one more second. What else can they take from him? Sam is up, using the wall to support him and trying to reach out for him, but he doesn't want to be touched. No. He can't be touched. Not again.

He hates the feeling of hands on his skin, it feels like they are still on him, pawing at his back and squeezing his hips. It doesn't stop. Not when he drops to his knees and folds over into a small ball. It doesn't stop when he covers his head with his arms and he's nearly ripping out his hair.

It only stops when he hears his brother singing.

"So let it out, let it in, Hey Jude, begin..." When Sam sees that its working, he doesn't stop. He continues on to the next verse, only pausing when he sees Dean breathing in at a calmer pace. He's got him, they're okay. He's onto the na nas, slowly fading into the silence that has taken over the room before Dean finally cracks open his little shell. His shoulders sag, his back relaxes, and then Sam is inching closer.

Hands hovering over his brother's body, wondering if he'll ever be able to touch Dean again without sending him into his mind.

"Is it okay if I put my hands on your shoulders Dee?" He asks, his voice no louder than the na nas, not wanting to spook the calm bubble his brother has created around himself. The weak nod is all he needs to gently coax his brother into his arms once more.

He's got Dean's head tucked under his chin, his knees curled up so he's practically in Sammy's lap. He doesn't know when he started growing, with his status change, he probably should have stopped growing a year ago, but he's nearly an inch over his brother's head.

He sends a look over at Benny, almost just remembering that they weren't alone in the room. He's on the defense, ready to defend Dean's panic attacks as a result of this hell, but Benny doesn't look judgemental. He looks...honestly like he's taking mental notes. Probably wondering if he'll have to do this for Andrea.

Sam only wishes that Andrea isn't as much of a commodity as Dean is. Perhaps she'll come out of this without a scratch on her.

One can only be so hopeful.

"I'm gonna find a way to get ya'll out of here. Soon as I find my sister, we're gone." Benny says, there's a fire in his eyes when he says it too. So much so that Sam actually believes him. But Sam knows better then to expect this kind of help without a price.

"What do you want in exchange?" He asks, trying not to kick himself in the head when Dean tenses up in his arms. He would never pimp out his brother and he nearly nips at Dean in response.

"Only thing I want is my sister outta here. You two are welcome to come, so long as you can keep up."

"Three," Sam interjects and Benny's eyebrow cocks up at that.

"Dean's pup, we're not leaving here without it."

A smile stretches across Benny's face, he lets out a laugh and claps his hands together.

"All right chief, consider it done."


	17. Andrea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan begins like a rock rolling downhill, its slow and starts speeding up so fast they can barely keep up.

Looking down at himself now, he cannot help but think his plan will not work.

He's pushing a cart down another tunnel of this damned underground hell hole, wearing a stolen lab coat and pretending to be some type of mortician/doctor. Whatever, hardly anyone casts him a second glance when he passes by, and if he keeps his head down, he has the chance to sniff at passing doors.

Gumbo and king cake are distant, but he's steadily getting closer.

His plan isn't entirely formed yet, right now, all he's concerned about is finding his sister before he can even consider a route out of here. Let alone a place where they could all hide out in.

He'll have to sneak back into Sam and Dean's room and figure that out.

He's closing in on the scent of their grandfather's home cooked gumbo when a hand claps him on the shoulder, effectively drawing him to a stop.

When he turns around, its slow, he's weighing out his options, because if he's recognized, he could get thrown out of here without anyone with him. So he keeps his eyes trained on his boots when he hears Alistair talk.

"What are you doing out here? I thought I specifically said I wanted all medically trained personnel to be in the east wing."

"S'ry sir, heard an omega was sick in these parts." He replies back quickly. Alistair seems silent for a moment, like he's thinking about whether or not he truly needs one more pair of hands today. Though, there is a review happening on the surface of his project, someone should still be tending to the creatures down here.

"That's fine, continue tending to said omega, I need someone down here during the review. I cannot have anything amiss over head." He's spinning on his heel and out of sight before Benny can even reply with a 'yessir'.

If everyone was upstairs that meant one thing. It was now or never.

* * *

He's standing upright, Sammy's arm around his shoulders as they make yet another circle around the room. They've been practising this for hours. Walking, running, jumping, shit, they've even skipped. Anything to make sure they won't get separated during their escape.

Sam's panting, he's exhausted beyond all doubt, Dean knows this, but they can't stop yet. They had promised to try at least three hours of exercise daily while they were here. Their change of scenery didn't change anything. Without all the furniture of Alistair's room they had more space to move.

That's what Dean kept telling himself. The pain he woke up in was worth it, was worth not waking up chained to a chaise lounge or a king sized mattress. He'd rather wake up in a pile of excrement than wake up by Alistair's side again.

Having nothing was better than the somethings that Alistair spoiled them with.

"Dean," Sam wheezes, pulling him out of his thoughts enough to realize he's going way too fast for Sam to be able to keep up.

They slow to a stop, Dean nudges the side of Sammy's head with his own, an apology of sorts. Like always, Sam understands him and he pats his shoulder before lifting his arm off of him and easing himself onto the ground.

"S'okay Dee, I know you want to get out of here. I trust Benny will figure a way out of here. Don't worry. We just gotta keep this up so we won't slow him down." He says, his breath still coming out in pants.

Its slightly worrying him so he kneels beside his little brother and urges Sam's head down between his knees. He knows that Sam doesn't like looking directly at his leg but, this is the best position to slow his breathing down, Sam said so himself.

Like he's reading his mind, he chuckles, grabbing the hand he's using to hold the back of his neck.

"I know Dee, in and out, I'm working on it. Haven't moved that fast in awhile, that's all."

Dean worries his bottom lip between his teeth, he probably pushed him too hard for the day. He was just so excited. He wanted to get the hell out of here and leave this town in the rearview mirror. But he couldn't do it at his brother's expense.

Sam's sitting upright again and looking at him, his hand still holding onto his wrist. Concern evident on his face as he watches Dean slowly pull himself out of his thoughts. He gives Sam's hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away.

It was lights out time for them, they needed all the sleep they could get because they couldn't afford passing out on the run again. Dean wasn't going to be woken up ever again in a state like that. Sam seems to be of the same state of mind because he's scooting over beside him, cuddling up next to him in a familiar pile that they have grown accustomed to doing here.

Even on a bed as grand as Alistair's, they weren't but a few inches apart. It was a survival thing. They trusted on another and would literally have each other's backs, even when they slept.

They are on the brink when the door is kicked open.

* * *

Finding Andrea had been no easy feat, but the banging on the door had definitely helped. She must have smelled him coming down the hall. He's unlatching the metal door before he can blink.

When his eyes fall upon her, he can finally breathe again.

"Benny?" She asks, her hands reaching out to touch his face as if he were a dream. He can't help but do the same, she's actually here. She's alive. After all this time.

They collide into an embrace that could rival a car crash.

Within the next half hour, he has her laying on the cart with a blanket covering her entire body, and he's on his way back toward Sam and Dean.


	18. Freedom?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Benny busts them out of the cage, but are they out of hell yet?

The door bursts open and claps against the wall sending Sam and Dean both in defensive positions before Benny can announce himself.

It isn't until Dean is nearly snarling at him that he recognizes the man as their newest comrade.

"Dean, Sam, meet my sister Andrea." He says gesturing to a figure they now recognize as a human being atop of a cart. Dean blinks, gaze remaining on the round stomach that protrudes from the sheet covering Andrea's body and subconsciously rubs his own.

The baby.

With a whine sent straight to Benny's heart, he's looking over at the little omega and knows he's going to ask.

"Not yet, but I know where he is, we best get movin'. Alistair's upstairs dealin' with them suits and some fancy review. This'll be our only chance at freedom. I suggest we get a move on."

Dean's back at Sammy's side, lifting his arm over his shoulders and they are following Benny without another word. They keep their heads down, despite Benny having told them everyone should have been upstairs and they were mostly free to make their way toward the nearest exit, they weren't risking being recognized by whoever was down here.

Benny was one of the good guys, but the other guards? They had placed a bet on Dean's ass the day he got in here, he knew that if they bumped into anyone of them, they were done for. 

"We're doing fine Dee, I think we're almost there, deep breaths." Sam whispered close to his ear. He hadn't even realized he wasn't breathing, or if he was, he was doing it erratically. It doesn't have a lot to do with panic though, Sam's heavy, like legitimately HEAVY.

He's grown so much since they've been here and it definitely shows, the missing leg thing means nothing, the kid is burning Dean's lungs with the amount of effort it takes to lead them after Benny.

It isn't long until they reach a familiar door. Dean stops walking.

The last time he was here he was repeatedly raped until he couldn't stand. Sam's nose scrunches at the scent of his brother, which is a considerable feat considering his inability to smell as well as he use to. His brother smells like burnt funnel cake, like mildewy laundry. But over all of that, he smells afraid, and its then that he understands.

This is where he was days ago.

This is where he met Benny, and judging from the rigidness in their new friend's shoulders, he's thinking the same thing. When Benny lifts the latch to open the door, Dean's hit with the smell of his pup. Such a small little scent but so powerful that he's smiling already.

This is it, he's finally going to be with his pup.

As the door swings in, Benny steps out of the way, allowing Dean the chance to enter the room first. Sam is leaning against the wall and Dean is peeking inside when he hears it.

Growling.

But it doesn't belong to a were like them. No, this growl sounds animalistic, and when his eyes spot it, they widen to the size of plates. It belongs to a creature with black and brown fur, a doberman, Dean thinks as it vaults itself at these intruders.

Dean only has the time to shield his face with his arms before the dog latches onto him, teeth digging into his flesh and instantly drawing blood. But it's the strangest thing, it doesn't hurt.

No, it doesn't even frighten him as much as it angers him.

His pup is waiting for its omega parent to reunite and bond with it. His son was just through that door. Dean's got ahold of the dog's scruff with his free hand and is sinking his own teeth into the beasts jugular with a snarl of his own.

The dog cries out, whimpering in pain and then yelping as Dean pulls back, ripping its throat out and sending a shower of blood across his neck and face. Spitting out a chunk of flesh when it turns cold in his mouth is the last thing he expected to worry about today. With a sloppy rub of his arm, he wipes his mouth clean and is clambering back to his feet.

He pays no mind to Sam's gaping mouth or Benny's raised brows. Andrea doesn't even look phased, like if she were in Dean's position she would have done the exact same thing. It's just something primal about protecting babies, and with that, he's stalking into the room.

There's a figure in front of the crib, a chain is wrapped around their throat, no collar in sight, but judging form the state of their irritated skin, they've been wearing the chain for awhile now. Dean faintly recognizes the scent of another omega, but he doesn't care. That's just one more person standing between him and his son and he won't have that.

The way in which this person lays their body over the crib, its as if they are trying to protect the pup. Like Dean could ever hurt him.

But with that in mind, he manages to calm the sounds his lips are releasing. He doesn't even hear Benny enter the room behind him, but his voice rings out and is addressed toward the shaking omega.

"Scuse me darlin', this here is that pup's momma and I suggest you skooch on over and let him get what's his." The omega looks confused for a moment but doesn't back down.

"I-I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I can't let you take them." He doesn't look as scared as he should be. If anything he looks a little amused, but he keeps that buried beneath a thick protective glare. "Not without busting me out first."

Dean's about ten seconds from launching himself at the other man, but something holds him back. Call it curiosity, call it a sore jaw, he didn't want to have to tear out another creature's throat so soon.

Sam is at his side now, still holding onto the wall as he studies the omega. And like he knows he's being tested, the omega stands, taking a trusting step away from the crib and reaching out for the chain that keeps him in place.

"I can assure you that if you get me out of here, you and your pup won't have to worry about Alistair ever again."

Sam crosses his arms, a scoff leaving his lips, and thankfully he speaks and says what he knows his brother must be thinking.

"Who the hell are you?"

As if seeing him for the first time, the omega looks Sam up and down, taking his time checking out the specimen that his brother has become. It takes all of his restraint not to thrash the man now.

"Gabriel, of the Novak empire, I don't know how long you kids have been down here but I can tell you one thing. A Novak never tells a lie." Gabriel says as he opens his free hand out in greeting. All four of the intruders seem uncaring of this revelation, staring at his hand as if it carried the bubonic plague.

"Look, I won't stand between you and your pup, but Alistair kidnapped me in an attempt at riling up the clans and starting a gang war the size of Texas. You free me and you'll have the entire backing of my family's army to shield you and your band of misfits from Alistair and his men."

Sam seems to understand before all of the others, the little nerd that he is, and cocks an eyebrow up, mildly impressed.

"If you're so important, why does Alistair have you on babysitting duty to someone else's pup?" Gabriel's eyes a rolling before Sam can finish his question. He's letting out a small laugh of disbelief when he turns to the others for backup. Though, judging from the decreasing patience of the pup's omega parent, Gabriel knows when he's talking to the wrong crowd.

"You're him aren't you, pretty boy? You're Alistair's favorite." Gabriel asks as he nods at Dean, bloody face and all. Dean doesn't dignify that with a response. He never asked to be Alistair's favorite and if he ever sees the man again he'll sooner set him aflame then crawl into his lap.

"Alistair's keeping his two biggest bargaining chips together, me and you kid." Benny lets out a small whistle at that, turning to his sister with a shrug. But they've already wasted too much time talking, so he's leaving Andrea with a gentle pat on the shoulder as he strides toward Gabriel.

At first he backs up, eyes widening when he sees Dean's expression remain as blank and cold as any mobster he's ever faced. This is the look of a man that will willingly order men to kill for him. 

They are both surprised when Benny goes for the chain instead of his neck. With an incredible show of strength, Benny is ripping the chain out of the wall and successfully freeing the omega. Dean's nearly whining when Benny carefully lifts the baby out of his crib. He wants to rush forward and hold him, but he must smell ten kinds of terrifying. He can't scent bond with his pup covered in dog's blood.

Sammy must already know what he's thinking because he's removing the sheet from Andrea's lap and nudging him in the side with it. For the first time in months, he looks up at his baby brother and smiles.

Rubbing roughly at his neck and arms, his face already roughly cleaned by his shirt sleeve prior to bargaining, he's deems himself ready and opens his arms expectantly.

"You sure you can carry him Cher?" Benny asks, his eyes on the steadily oozing bite mark on his forearm. Dean snaps his teeth at him in warning. He couldn't care less about himself. He needed his pup.

As Benny walks over to him, his pup starts crying, and it brings an even bigger smile onto Dean's face than before. Benny sets the baby into his arms and instantly the tears stop.

When he lifts its little head up for a kiss, he feels a little nose against his chin. As it twitches he's sure he must be crying now, but he doesn't care because his pup is scenting him. Everyone is quiet, pleased to watch the display of affecting playing out in front of them, and its only when Gabriel clears his throat that they decide to move.

Benny returns to guiding Andrea, via cart, and Gabriel squeezes his way under Sammy's arm without having to be asked. Or as he put it, without having to be asked twice. Dean's following behind them, only focusing on his pup, his free hand holding the slack of Gabriel's chain.

Its a maze getting out and it surely takes longer than Dean thinks, but he doesn't look up from his sleeping pup's face. Not until a door is opened and he can smell the cold air of fall. Its bitter out here, colder than their last glimpse at freedom. He folds his pup gently into his chest as a numbing wind swings through them.

Benny is easing Andrea onto the ground, four pairs of bare feet are hurrying now, Benny seemingly the only runner not affected by the mass of tree roots and rocks. Dean can't help but think of what shoes will feel like after so long without them. He and Gabriel manage to help Sam to Benny's hidden vehicle.

As they all begin to pile in, there's a distinct seat missing as a large car seat occupies its space. Gabriel practically lunges onto Sam's lap without so much as shame to guide him.

Eyebrows raised, Benny gestures to the hidden row of seats behind Dean and Sam. To which all Gabriel replies with is, "We haven't the time to mess with a seating arrangement, we have to get the hell out of Dodge!"

Well, he wasn't wrong about that one. A gunshot sounds as it collides with a nearby tree trunk, wood splinters by Andrea's head. Benny rushes to shove her in the car and close her door after her. Another shot rings out over his head, nearly taking his hat as it whizzes by. The engine is roaring to life and the SUV is off like the next shot.

Dean is struggling with the straps around his pup, his hands are shaking and he knows that his adrenaline is fading. He has to get his pup situated before he loses it, if he can't do this right then he can't take care of his pup. He needs to be able to fasten these damn straps.

"Here," Sam says gently, his hands closing around his big brother's and helping him push the locking mechanism together. "We're okay Dee, take a deep breath."

He probably won't, and can't thanks to Alistair's evil doctors, be able to express to Sam how grateful he is for a brother like him. In the midst of all of this chaos, he never seems to let Dean fall back in the fog. Which is why he doesn't 'say' anything to the flustered look on Sam's face when Gabriel adjusts himself, getting rather acquainted with some of Sam's...baser body parts.

They made it. Freedom.


	19. The Sunrise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road toward happiness doesn't always end toward the setting sun. Sometimes there's something beyond the horizon that has yet to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments, they make my life, I really do appreciate your feedback (of the commentary sense not so much the semantics sense). All of your comments either inspire or illustrate what the boys may experience next. So here's to you guys.

He's moving. Swaying in a gentle rocking that feels like he's being babied, but he doesn't mind it. Someone's arms surround him, they smell like Benny, but he doesn't put too much thought beyond that. Benny will protect him so he isn't too worried.

Maybe he took them home?

God only knew how much he missed Bobby. Even Bobby's dumb mutt would make him happy at this point.

He thought he smelled old oil or rusted metal, like Bobby's scrap yard, but that couldn't possibly be right. They weren't that close to Bobby's were they? How long had he been asleep?

The baby.

He's jerking awake and nearly flailing in Benny's arms when Sam comes into view.

"Woah there chief, just me." Benny soothed. Ultimately it was Sammy's raised hands that caused him to settle. He looked over his shoulder, a smile forming on his lips, and turned back to Dean.

"We're here."

Dean blinks, just now noticing that Sam is leaning against an old junker. Benny eases him onto his feet and he can see the whole entirety of Bobby's land. Including the house that sits in the center of it all.

On the porch of that old house stands an older looking version of their uncle Bobby.

Dean's running before anyone can stop him.

Not that they would have tried to anyways.

He's crying, probably big fat ugly tears judging from the wretched sobs leaving his throat. But Bobby doesn't look any better. The old man looks like he's seconds from bursting into tears himself. He clambers down the steps and is folding Dean into his chest as soon as he's within reach.

Strangled broken sounds leave him. Words that will never form and make him cry all the more loud. He wants to tell Bobby how sorry he is, how much he missed him, or how much he loved him. God he missed the smell of that old man.

This was what home smelled like, engine grease and black coffee. Bobby's got a hand at the back of his head, his nose is buried in Dean's neck and he can't help but let out a few tears himself.

He's got his sons back.

There's a pair of hands patting his sides, asking for permission to join in on all the loving. It's Sam, Dean can smell his brother's joy, and reaches back to tug at his loose shirt.

Bobby is even more happy to have another one of his boys to squeeze the life out of.

"I swear, you two idjits ever leave from outta my sight, I'll shoot ya." He teases, nosing along Sam's neck.

They both stiffen when Bobby inhales a lungful of Sam's new, muted scent. Bobby is a beta himself, but he knew that Sam had presented as an alpha. Sam's finger dig into the material of Bobby's shirt, silently begging him not to bring it up.

He can't talk about it, not yet.

And thankfully, Bobby understands.

"I missed the ever lovin' hell out of you boys."

"We missed you too Bobby." Sammy replies for the both of them.

When they break apart, Benny has Dean's pup in his arms and Dean is silently begging to hold him. With his arms held out expectantly, Benny laughs and passes the babe over wordlessly.

"I know Mama bear, here you are. He damn near slept through the whole ride." Benny comments as Dean's hands slide around his baby.

When he holds him, tears spring into his eyes again. Bobby is going to love his pup so much. He turns to show him, a sudden shy smile overtaking his features as he presents the pup up to his uncle.

"This is Dean's pup," Sam supplies. Bobby grins and leans over to get a better look at the baby's face.

He's got red cheeks and a dollop of hair on top of his head. His eyes are grey, not having developed into a definite color yet. But if Bobby had to bet on one, he'd bet one of his hats that he'll have Dean's green eyes.

"He's beautiful Dean."

Dean's scent floods with pride as he tucks his son into his chest to admire. He really is the perfect little guy. He's so happy that nothing could possibly ruin this.

"He got a name?" Bobby asks, and suddenly Dean's mood flattens.

He hasn't exactly had the time or frame of mind to choose a name for his baby. He was too worried on getting his baby out of that hell hole to worry about what to call him. When he looks up at his uncle's open face, he doesn't see a fraction of disappointment or judgment. Bobby would never berate him for not coming up with a name so soon or especially during all that they had undergone.

Bobby was everything that their father wasn't. He was a good man and Dean loved him dearly.

And suddenly, he's smiling again.

He nods to Bobby's question and points right at his uncle. If he'd name that pup anything, it should be Robert. Right after his grandfather.

"You want to name him 'Bobby'?" Sam asks. He doesn't sound too judgey but Dean can hear the open side of that question. He shakes his head no, while he loves the name, there can only be one Bobby. But Robert is as good of a name as Bobby.

"Robert?" Bobby asks, finally catching on that Dean can't speak. He's nodding his head like a maniac, and when he looks down at his baby, all gentle and pure, the name suits him even more.

"That's a mighty fine name Cher, mighty fine." Benny speaks up from behind them. It's only then that Dean remembers he has a whole audience of people watching the spectacle that is Dean and his baby. A red blush creeps its way across his cheeks and he's ducking his head before they can tease him about it.

"Not that I don't love the way everything has unfolded, but I'd love to get some proper clothes on and get out of this cold." Gabriel quips from behind them. Bobby's head snaps up, and he looks like he's got about a million questions to ask, but judging from the shrug that Sam sends his way, he probably should wait until after they've settled in.

He's ushering them inside without another moment's waste.


	20. The Talk (or lack thereof)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby's got questions.

It isn't until they've all been fed, inspected, cleaned, and clothed that he lets his questions bubble up to the surface.

There are some major concerns he's got just by looking at his boys.

Major concern #1. Sam has one fucking leg. Well, technically he's got his knee and upwards, but boy's standing on one foot. Major Concern #2. Dean's got a baby. And he also hasn't said a single word since they've been back. Bobby doesn't want to pin it all on trauma, a coping mechanism, but he's seen it before. Dean's always been a fragile hearted boy too, he was strong, don't get him wrong. He'd seen that boy wallop a knotheaded alpha almost twice his size.

It's just...when it came to certain things, Dean was just too pure to handle it.

He couldn't blame him. Really he couldn't. His younger brother was hoping around on one leg (foot) and the boy himself was lugging around a pup. Bobby's sure he'd be a little messed up after the stuff they've suffered for the two years they've been missing.

God, two years.

It hurts just thinking about it.

He let everyone either situate themselves in a room or get acquainted with the sofa cushions, too frazzled to sit down himself. He managed to sneak off into his office and was steadily cleaning some empty liquor bottles from his desk.

It had been a hard two years.

"Bobby?" He hears a knock at his door and looks up.

There, with his hair nearly to his eyes and leaning heavily on the door, is Sam. Bobby is moving to get him seated before the boy can protest.

"We'll have to get you some crutches until we can find a decent enough place that makes them prosthetics." He says, offhandedly.

He's back to cleaning his desk and fiddling with some errant books and maps. He knows Sam is staring at him, but he can't look up at him, not yet. Many drunken nights were filled with realistic dreams of the boys just lounging around the house. He doesn't want to look up for fear of this being another dream.

"You-uh, you really mean that?" Sam asks, his voice wavering.

Finally he looks up, ready to face his fears only because this dream-not-dream Sam sounded like he was ready to break right in half. He couldn't have that, not in his house. When he lifts his eyes, his hat is low enough to cover the sheen they've gotten during his spiraling thoughts. Sam's eyes though, regardless of his hippie hair, hold little back and he's got tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

He rounds his desk and is kneeling before the boy.

"'Course I mean that son, you got to have a way to chase your brother around the yard. Can't very well do that on crutches. And I ain't lettin a cane anywhere near this house until both my legs don't work."

The smile he receives is enough to break his heart and stitch it right back together. God he missed them like crazy.

"T-thanks Bobby." Sam says, ducking his head to hide the escaping tears. He can't have that either. He reaches out, slow and sure, with his arms in Sam's line of sight so he can pull away if he wanted to. When the boy doesn't react, he's pulling him into a tight hug that he never wants to release.

They sit there, folded over one another until Sam's scent starts making his nose twitch.

Major concern #3. What the hell happened to that boy's secondary gender? But like Sam's attuned to his thoughts, they are pulling apart and Sam is clearing his throat. Clearly he means business.

"There's um, well, some things I'm sure you have questions about. Like the leg, but I-I don't think we can talk about them yet." Sam hasn't looked up yet and he doesn't force him to. Bobby waits, allowing the boy to collect his thoughts and settle his nerves.

"The thing I wanted to talk to you about was Dean." He's got Bobby's attention now. And now that he isn't talking about himself, he finds the strength to meet his uncle's stare.

When he looks up, he doesn't remember why he was so worried about how Bobby was going to look at him. Bobby wasn't anything like John, he wasn't going to start yelling or doling out blame as soon as they returned. Bobby was - for some reason - going to take care of them. So when he speaks again, it is with the authority of a young man that's got nothing to lose.

"The man that kept us there did something to Dean and he can't talk anymore. I didn't see the surgery-" He shakes off the drugged memories before he can panic. "But I know that he's got a thin scar on his throat and his tongue is still there, so the doctor they had must have been a real practitioner."

He's up on his feet and moving back to his desk, jotting down that sliver of information, and he looks up, signalling Sam to continue. So he does. But only the things that he remembers and nothing that's too fresh.

"They have a bunch of men for hire, like bodyguards or something. I couldn't even count how many different men I saw on a day-to-day basis. The man that I think is in charge of everything..." His voice dies down, like he's afraid of this man hearing him, even with the driven distances.

Eventually, he's too silent for Bobby to hear him, and he checks just to make sure the boy hasn't left him. What he sees is the look of a soldier reliving the war. Like Sam isn't even here anymore, too worried about where he went inside of his mind to think about his current surroundings. And like all of the older soldiers he's met or handled, he gets up real slow and doesn't talk too loudly.

"Y'know what son, you did real good helping me with this information, I'm sure I'll be able to find him. Don't you worry, why don't you go up and rest?" He says, voice calm and smooth as honey.

Sam nods, but there's nothing really behind it, like he hadn't even really heard what Bobby had said. But he doesn't take any of his reactions to heart, he knows those boys have already dealt with their fair share of monsters, he hates that they had to meet the human kind. Those are always the worst.

They are walking down the hall and up the stairs and Sam still hasn't said a word. It isn't until they are about to pass the room that Dean already chose for himself that he talks. With a weak hand, he points to his big brother's bedroom door, and says, "here's good".

Bobby nudges it open, worried about waking the pup, and see's Dean sitting up on the bed. His face is already flooded with concern when he sees the state of his brother. When he looks to Bobby with a questioning stare, he just waves him off and gestures for him to help get Sam situated on the bed.

Only when Sam is tucked in and falling asleep does Bobby pull Dean off to the side.

Thankfully Sam already answered the question to Major Concern #2. Or at least, in part. So he's ready with simple yes or no questions that he knows the boy can answer.

"He's fine, just a little shaken up o'er some of the details of the ride back. Don't go stressin' yourself over that, it'll make your pup sick."

Dean blushes at that, and they both turn to see the baby all curled up and protected in a little nest of pillows on his back on the ground. Bobby frowns, but he doesn't say anything about the nest, he'd be a stupid idiot if he, a beta, was going to question the caretaking abilities of an omega. Especially one like Dean, whose already raised a pup and knows exactly what he's doing.

"We'll get a crib situated tomorrow. And we're also goin' to do somethin' about that talkin problem o' yours."

Dean's head snaps up at that, shock and something akin to embarrassment tint the color of his skin. Like he should be embarrassed over something that was already out of control. Bobby waves his hand, calming Dean before he can freak out.

"Don't you go hiding from me boy, ain't nothing to be ashamed of. It's something that's already happened and we'll figure it out. Just like Robbie here. I know a lady that signs, she'll fix us all up with some of the basics. In the meantime, I'll get you some pens and a notepad." Bobby looks up, reminding himself that he was supposed to stay with the 'yes' or 'no' criteria.

Dean doesn't look lost or dejected by being left out of this conversation, if anything, he looks happy. Though, the streaming tears on his cheeks make Bobby flinch in concern. He's ready to jump over backwards to try to figure out where he went wrong when Dean's hand catches his elbow. The smile that's on his face supersedes any of the tears that warm his cheeks.

Even though he can't talk, his expression says it all. He's grateful to have an uncle like Bobby to help them. Dean is tugging him into a quick embrace with a clap on the back that ends as quick as it came.

"All right, glad we got that out of the way." Bobby says. He's ready to send the boy to bed when another thought hits him. Dean must see the change of his mood, because he's straightening up like the soldier John trained him to be. Bobby hates that, but he doesn't tell Dean otherwise, that boy'll figure it out one day.

"Should I be worried 'bout any of them stragglers downstairs?" Dean slouches, relieved the old man didn't bring up anything life-threatening. He shakes his head no, before he thinks of Gabriel, and then shrugs.

"Benny?" At Dean's definite shake in disagreement, Bobby feels marginally better. He was just starting to like that fella.

"His sister?" Dean shakes his head once more. Andrea is one of the omegas that was pimped out like a factory cow. She's one of them, Dean trusts her solely on the bump she's got hiding under her shirt.

"Gabriel?" This time, Dean's response isn't as committed. Sure Gabe's an omega and he's kind of small, but Dean is too and he can kill a man with his bear hands. Also there's that little hitch with the mob being involved. That's something Dean never thought he'd think about. The mafia.

Sure there's always the vigilantes and the "Chicago way," but not everyone is Elliot Ness. And he doesn't know how kind or thankful Gabe's family will be for freeing him. Maybe they'll be kind enough to let them all live. It wasn't like they were the ones that had kidnapped him.

"Something important you want to tell me?" Bobby asks, looking around the room already for something to write with.

When all he finds is a dry erase marker, that he doesn't know how it ended here, he just holds out the marker and his open palm. At Dean's cocked brow, Bobby scoffs and shoves the marker into Dean hand and shakes his hand in front of his face.

"Just write small, I'll figure it out." He grumbles.

Dean seems to mull it over, and then he's wondering just how well he could write all of how they came upon the strange little omega, when he decides he doesn't have enough room. So all he writes is short and to the point.

ASK BENNY

Bobby looks down at it and nods, works for him. He claps Dean gently on the shoulder and nudges him toward the bed.

They've got a long night ahead of them.


	21. A Sign (Not the ethereal kind, the hand signal kind)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days after finding Bobby and assistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cas is coming up guys, I'm legit excited. Its not in this chapter, but soon.

"Do you have a....four?" Gabriel asks, his voice way too cheery for a boring Tuesday afternoon.

Sam stared at the hand of cards Dean had dealt him, waiting for Dean to sign the number. It had been a simple request made by Dean's new sign language teacher, Missouri Moseley, practice letters and numbers whenever they came up in conversation.

It had become a sort of game for the three of them over the past few days. Mainly trying to spew out as many numbers as possible and watch as Dean scrambled to comply, often times he'd get caught up by the thirteenth or seventeenth number and just flip them the bird.

Now, blanket covering his upper torso as Robbie nursed, Dean waved Sam off with a muted grumble.

Andrea had brought the baby in after playing with him during bath, she kept saying it was practice for her own baby, and who was Dean to deny free childcare? Though, he never strayed too far from the pup. Call it a residual side effect to being separated the first two weeks of his birth.

Either way, he had only freaked out once in the four days they had been here. It had been when Benny and he had went to the store, sans pup, and Dean barely made it down the street before the car's cabin was filled with the impending scent of a meltdown.

It had taken three hours of rocking the pup in the corner of his room, before he had reassured himself on his pup's safety.

Now with two days in his back pocket, free of incident, he was happy to hand over the pup at Andrea's request. Though now, holding him close to his chest and listening to his little swallowing sounds while he nursed, he never wanted to part from his baby.

After the incident, it had been a group decision to just let Bobby or Benny handle the supply runs. Which, Dean couldn't argue with, being out there in the "real world" was terrifying. He had grown so used to four walls and Sam right beside him that when Sam decided to change rooms the second night he nearly cried.

He's blaming that one on hormones.

He was a grown ass man, and plus Sammy was sixteen years old now. He didn't need his older brother cramping his style. (Or his special alone time.) He zoned out as Gabe and Sam continued their game, tucking a strand of his too long hair behind his ear. He'd have to get a haircut soon. Long hair only suited one of the Winchester boys.

He was gently swaying, not so fast to interfere with Robbie's take on his nipple, but enough that calmed himself. Breast feeding. What a trip. He hadn't thought himself capable until Robbie had been crying his eyes out refusing any formula they tried to offer him.

Even Gabriel was perplexed. He had been the one to take care of the pup while they were in the compound, it shouldn't have been so hard getting him to take a bottle. But, Omega to Omega, Gabriel had an inkling the baby wouldn't be happy with any other milk than Dean's.

He hadn't even known he could do that. Make milk. It was weird and slightly disturbing, seeing his pectoral muscles soften, but after the first try Robbie had latched on and shut up. So, this was a thing now.

Sam oddly didn't seem bothered by it, simply stating, "It's your pup and that's his food, why should I care?" Then again, Sam had been the only one of the two to actually attend a real class on their secondary genders. Not that Dean was jealous or something, but aside from the clockwork routines of his heats and other...cycles, he knew next to nothing about being an omega.

That could also be due to John's parenting style. He had been so annoyed that Dean was an omega. Not really disappointed, but annoyed, like it was going to affect HIS life forever. Dean had been really subtle about questioning Gabe about his status, the other omega seemingly had no qualms about talking to Dean about this. In fact he often caught the other man staring whenever Dean nursed.

Not in a sexual way. God no, but Gabriel made plenty of innuendos, all of the softer approach given their background. Whenever he caught him staring there was always a look of longing on his face. Andrea got that same look sometimes.

Speaking of, the very woman came waddling into the room and sitting heavily in the chair beside Dean's. The omegas had no concept of personal space, but Gabriel had said that was a type of comfort thing. Omegas sought the calming scent of other omegas. Something about pack bonding or another, he wasn't paying attention if he's being honest.

Andrea leaned against his side taking a peek over his shoulder, where the blanket bubbled up so as not to smother Robbie, and started making little cooing noises. Dean permitted it, only because getting up while Robbie was feeding always was a struggle. Her dazed and dreamy sigh had him fighting the urge to roll his eyes, but Gabe seemed to catch on and hid behind his hand of cards.

Bobby came stomping into the room, his face perpetually grumpy, and cleared his throat. Four pairs of eyes looked up with rapt attention toward the older man. Everyone had been so respectful toward him that he could hardly take anyone saying thanks for a simple glass of water.

"All right, we've got some things we got to discuss, put them cards up. I want to talk to all of you." Andrea excused herself in favor of looking for her brother. Bobby remained standing, waiting patiently until everyone was gathered around his table, expectant looks on their faces. When Bobby dragged a tired hand down his face, both Dean and Sam held their breath. Whatever he was going to say was not good.

"All right folks, I got some things to talk about and I want you all to have a say. If you don't like something, you best speak up." He said, and Dean started looking around for his notebook.

"I have to open the scrap yard again, I ain't making any money just sittin here." When three mouths opened, Bobby sent a stern glare and a lifted hand to silence them. "I ain't sayin anyone has to leave, unless you want to, house is yours to stay in. None of you idjits are a burden so don't get that in your heads."

When the three mouths effectively snapped shut, Bobby continued.

"I have spots open if anyone is looking for work, I'd appreciate the help, I ain't as young as I use to be-" When Sammy looked ready to take a jab at the man, Bobby nearly growled. "I ain't that old neither."

Benny was the first to volunteer, of course. The man could hardly sit still. He was always either doing the dishes or offering to sweep Bobby's porch. Gabriel looked as if he was ten seconds from bouncing off of the walls here, so Dean figured he could probably use some free time.

The appeal of working in a shop didn't skip Dean's mind. He missed the feel of the impala under wrench and hand. Labor was something he could use right now. He could work in the repair shop, so long as Robbie was taken care of.

He wrote as much down on a clean sheet of lined paper and passed it over to Andrea to read aloud. She instantly volunteered to babysit, a real surprise, but Bobby hadn't said anything yet.

He was studying Dean's face, wondering if this was a good idea. Sure, the boy needed independence, but he was also still on the mend (mentally). Bobby didn't want him having an episode like he had had the other day. Watching him curled up that tight had scared him something fierce. But then again, if he said no, that'd be like kicking a puppy. If the puppy was a stubborn pain in his ass.

"Fine, but you ain't working in that shop without someone in there. So Gabriel, if you want work, you're at reception. You and your damn cheery attitude." Bobby grumbled. Gabriel sent Dean a lewd wink that everyone noticed.

"What about me, what would you like me to do Bobby?" Sam asked, smile still on his face from their back and forth banter. It was the most at ease Bobby had seen him in days and he almost regretted having to talk about this next issue. Taking his hat off his head and giving his hair a rough paw, he looked away from the boy's face. He couldn't handle seeing the panic on either of their faces so he was ready to turn around at the drop of his hat.

"Well, you see son, I-I figured we'd get you back in school."

Silence strangled the throats of everyone inside. Even Robbie had quieted, though to be contrite, he had fallen asleep, so he didn't count. Dean carefully studied Sam's expression and was ready to reach out for his hand when a smile spread across his little brother's face.

"Really? Oh my God I haven't seen a book that wasn't full of lore in so long I was really about to lose it." It settled the tension in Dean's shoulders and set Bobby's hat back on his head. The man looked so relieved at the boys response he nearly forgot what he had to say next.

"Good, uh, we've got an appointment with a specialist about that leg of yours. So soon as we get that situated, we'll figure out how to get you back in."

Sam nodded, eager and only slightly nervous about bringing his leg up in a room full of his friends. It had just become an unspoken agreement, no one asked or judged, they simply minded their business. Not even Gabriel tried to crack at Sam's leg.

"Only question I got left. Do you want to keep your names?" Both Sam and Dean snapped up in attention. Fake names meant one thing, someone was looking for them. Either their father, if he was still alive, or the people from the compound. Neither were good in any case, so with one shared look, they new their answer.

"No, not if it can draw any unwanted attention to us." Sam supplied for the both of them. Bobby nodded, turning to each of his guests in turn, awaiting their responses.

"They won't know my name Chief, never did share nothing more than a smile with them boys uphill." Benny said. Andrea looked down at her hands, contemplating the question before sighing.

"They may know mine, so I'll have to change it."

When he came upon Gabriel, the young man looked suddenly prideful.

"Novak carries a lot of heat behind it. I can't give that up so easily. I think I'll be okay keeping mine." He nodded, self-assured in his decisions, but Bobby didn't look as willing to allow this.

"I know its your family name, but listen here, you say them compound handlers kept you as bargaining chips, you best lay low until you can get ahold of your family." Bobby suggested in his "I'm not suggesting, I'm telling you," voice. It seemed that he wasn't going to budge on this. And it seemed that Gabriel understood the necessity of it. He slumped in his seat.

"Fine, but I get to pick the name."


	22. The Garage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys are in the garage when an unexpected visitor comes to greet them.

Despite the increasingly cold temperatures of South Dakota, Dean was sweating.

Buried beneath the hood of an older model vehicle, inside of the fully insulated garage a mile ahead of Bobby's house, he was wondering why he was sweating. Bobby had recruited the aid of all the able bodied beings inside his house to assist him in cleaning up the shop. Benny and Gabriel had been put on moving duty while Sam was begrudgingly stuck organizing Bobby's files.

The appointment had gone well and they were expecting to have a follow-up to take measurements for his new leg. In the meantime, the doctors at Sioux Falls had given Sammy a pair of crutches to get around on.

His little brother had been less than happy after the fact.

As for Dean. In exchange for helping the four "new" members of Bobby's family, AKA, a Dean and Sam Wesson, an Ann LaLaurie, and a very disgruntled Gabriel Krushnic...Dean was assigned to fix Bobby's friend's car. They didn't get the pleasure of meeting Frank, Bobby said he was a paranoid old coot and never left his house. But he was kind enough to send them their new I.D.s and birth certificates, and to sweeten the pot, he put in Robbie's.

Dean was sold on the guy, so he had no problem being buried underneath an ancient old beast for this Frank dude.

How they were going to get his car to him, he had not idea, but he's sure the Frank guy probably already thought of something. So he just spends his time worrying what goes where and what needs repair.

It isn't until Benny pulls the garage door open that he realizes he's pumping out heat like a furnace. The cool air trails its fingers up his spine and causes him to shiver.

There's quiet rock music playing in the background, per his request. He was picking up sign fairly quick, but then again, he was good with his hands, so this was probably the perfect language for him.

Benny and Gabe were in the back bickering over some boxes while Sam hovered over his shoulder, his paperwork forgotten on the nearby desk. He kept pointing to things and asking Dean what they were. Dean knows that Sam's tired of looking over Bobby's files, probably wants to take a break, and he doesn't really care about the inner workings of Frank's car.

But he indulges him anyway.

He eventually puts down his socket wrench in favor of having his hands free to explain. Sam and he have been practicing together so their conversations were always of the more in-depth variety.

"....And that one, what's that for?" Sam asked pointing to one of the tubes that protects the transmission line. Dean was about to say as much when a breeze came in carrying the scent of an unfamiliar were.

An alpha.

Instantly he froze, and Sam did not miss the change in his demeanor. He was up and reaching for his crutches right as Benny rounded the corner. Dean heard the distinct growl of, "stay here," that he had undoubtedly commanded Gabriel with.

They all turned to the garage's main door, Benny stalking forward until he was effectively blocking Dean's body with his own. Sam rose to his full, still growing, height and frowned with such malice that even Dean took a step back. He didn't get far though, his lower back bumping into Frank's car.

Even Bobby came out of his office, aware of the change in the air. Except, he didn't come empty handed, he came carrying a shotgun. He didn't cock it into place until he set eyes on the man standing in the mouth of the garage.

"State your name and purpose." He said without an inch of bargaining. The man, whom Dean could only see a fraction of over Benny's shoulder, raised his hands in a non-threatening gesture. The alpha didn't smell threatening, but he smelled...strange. And if Dean knew anything by this point it was not to trust a strange smell.

He didn't realize his breathing had changed until Sam set a hand on his wrist, pulling him from his thoughts to listen to the exchange.

"I'm not here for trouble, I'm just looking for an omega-

His words nearly sent Dean over the edge and he was ready to start panicking before Bobby spoke. Aiming his shotgun at the newcomer's face, he smirked.

"Wrong answer."

Dean lifted his hands up, covering his ears, and waited for that shot to fire. He couldn't take it, too loud, it was going to be too loud. Like car doors slamming as he and Sam were taken and John yelling when Dean didn't do something to his pleasing. Too loud.

"WAIT!" Gabe screamed from the back of the shop.

Dean didn't remove his hands, his eyes were clenched shut now, and he wasn't going to wait for Gabriel to elaborate.

"That's my brother!" Gabriel shouted before he took off in a dead sprint toward the stranger. With Bobby's gun still trained on him, the man waited for Gabriel to come to him. Nearly crushing him against his chest with the reconnecting embrace of two lost brothers. Benny took a step forward, allowing Dean the perfect glimpse of their reunion, but his eyes were still closed.

Something was wrong, he was hot. Like he had been when the garage door had been shut and he had been sweating away beneath Frank's car. Like...like he was in heat.

Dean opened his eyes as a gasp left his lips, he felt five sets of eyes snap over to him, two of those pairs belonging to alphas. Logically he knew Benny would never hurt him, but right now? He was in full survival mode and shoved his way past his brother, running out of the shop like a man on fire.

Impossible, he had just had a heat but, technically, that had been before Robbie had been born. But still, this was too soon. Right?

The old rusted cars of Bobby's backyard flashed past his line of sight, not that he really cared about those. All he cared about was making it back to Bobby's house. If he could just make it inside no one would hurt him. No one would...would take him. He couldn't- not so soon after Azazel. No it was all too soon.

He didn't see Andrea standing worryingly on the porch, not until he was jumping up the steps ready to pitch himself through the front door. She caught him by the arm and he nearly sent her flying down the stairs.

He blinked, her voice sounded foggy, unclear, like she was talking to him through glass. He was so warm, he could feel a bead of sweat trickling down between his shoulder blades. A phantom pain in his knee ached, reminding him of his beta. Reminding him of Alistair.

He didn't want anyone's hands on him, he couldn't take it. Not even Andrea's concerned touch against his cheek. She knew what was happening, especially pregnant, she could probably smell him from the garage.

She had smelled him right after she had set Robbie down for his mid-morning nap. If it hadn't been for the call from Bobby, she probably would have just let him go, but she's glad she caught him. He was a mess. Whining and emitting such a nauseating scent of fear that even she had to look over her shoulder. It wasn't until she grabbed the side of his face, too close to his neck, that she realized just how bad Dean was dealing with this.

She'll be the first to admit, their time down in that hell hole? It was pure and absolute Hell, no doubt about it. But she hadn't been Alistair's favorite. In fact, she had only seen the man one time in the entire time she had been there. But Dean? Dean saw that man practically every day, had been pumped full with that man's pup and had been forced to separate from it shortly after it's birth.

She doesn't even know what else had happened before then.

The touch to his neck stills him, like a slap to the face and he drops to the ground, shielding his face from what he believes will be Alistair's hard hand. What she doesn't know is that John would do it too, annoyed at Dean for not being able to control himself. He hated the smell of Dean during heat, always complained it gave him a headache and kept him locked up in his room for hours.

Needless to say, heats were a bad thing to Dean. This was probably the most ill-timed of his heats.

Andrea, regardless of her swelling belly, knelt down and wrapped Dean up in her arms. Gently guiding his face into her neck, hoping beyond all hope that if he would just scent her that everything would be all right.

It isn't until Sam comes hobbling up the steps that Dean breathes in.

When he doesn't smell domineering alpha or disgusting Alistair, he wants to weep. Which, given the state of his hormones, he most likely is. Sam's broad chest presses against his back as Andrea and his younger brother smother him with scents of calm and protection.

It takes three tries to get him to his feet, he thinks he smells Bobby at the door, and maybe hears him barking out orders on where to take him, but he's just so tired now.

If his feet drag across Bobby's wood floors when Sam and Andrea struggle to bring him downstairs, no one says anything. He's laid on a long cot, his jumper is rolled off of him, Sam struggling to lift each leg with how tired Dean's grown.

Andrea squeezes onto the cot, continuing to hold him and smother him in her scent.

"Don't let Gabriel touch the pup, he's probably carrying that alpha's scent on him now and that'll drive Dean crazy when he comes to." Andrea says, her voice light and calm so as not to startle Dean while he tumbled head first into a heavy sleep.

"Don't worry about Robbie, we'll take care of him Dee, just sleep. Everything will be all right soon." Dean wants to believe him, but he's pretty sure that he's hallucinating right now.


	23. Awake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His first heat after nearly eight months without it.

Screaming.

Hotheatwrithing-

Gasping

Fingers digging into his flesh as he physically tries to tear his skin off.

It's hot.

Why is everything so hot?

Is he-

No

He's not in hell. He just escaped there.

He's burning.

Burning.

BURNING-

"DEAN!" A voice calls to him and he feels hands clutching onto his. Another set of hands press him down, he can't see whose hands they are, but he doesn't care. It's another person he has to go through to get free.

He somehow ended up back in hell. Except this time, he's alone.

Sammy is gone, Benny is nowhere to be seen, and Robbie. He can't even smell his pup.

Everything burns. His knee most of all. It won't stop. It won't stop. WHY?! WONT IT STOP??

He feels a light pinprick in the side of his neck, its jarring and his body drops almost instantly in response. He doesn't understand, he was just asleep, why was he so tired? Hell shouldn't be like this. At least, Alistair never made it like this. Never gave him the hope that his dreams would save him from the nightmare that was his life.

This was hell and he shouldn't be sleeping.

He should be awake.

Because this is hell and he'll never get to live again.

* * *

Dean's back arches from the bed and it takes Sam's hands as well as Bobby's to keep him from fighting. Andrea is struggling with the syringe, trying to find a place that is close enough to Dean's bloodstream.

They hadn't expected for him to wake so soon after passing out in Andrea's arms. He was wild bucking and fighting as soon as he regained consciousness. Poor Andrea was ignoring her steadily bleeding nose in favor of jabbing Dean in the side of the neck.

His brother gasped, the green in his eyes rolling back in favor of unconscious white. His body fell like a sack of rocks as soon as the sedative hit his system.

Sam, Bobby, and Andrea stood catching their breath over Dean's limp body. The shouts of concerned alphas was bouncing off of the metal door to Bobby's panic room. The newcomer, Castiel as Gabriel informed them, was strangely concerned about Dean's heat haze.

Sam wondered if they had that man to thank for his brother's hysteria. Unfortunately having seen Dean endure his heat due to their living conditions of the last two years, Sam knew how Dean acted during a heat.

That was not it.

He never acted like he wanted to burst out of his own flesh. Dean had been screaming bloody murder, going on about a pain in his knee. None of them understood what the hell was going on. Even Bobby was worried and that man had been the one to help John fight the undead.

When the room falls silent, Sam turns to Andrea's aid, dabbing at her nose with a corner of the blanket Dean had kicked off of himself during his haste. Bobby rounds the bed once he's thoroughly examined Dean with his eyes.

Lifting his baseball cap, idly scratching at his head, Bobby clears his throat.

"I don't know what the hell that was but he can't be awake for his heat if this is how he'll act." Sam and Andrea looked up, Bobby's words finally registering enough to stop Sam's mother-henning. Making sure Andrea has a hold of the blanket, he's spinning around on one foot to face his uncle.

"You want to keep him like this? In a catatonic state where he can't even speak, tell us what is wrong with him?" He knows Bobby means well but this is Dean they are talking about. His brother is literally laying RIGHT THERE and they are talking about him like he doesn't even get a say in the matter.

"What the hell do you suggest boy? You want him waking at the crack of dawn screaming about his body boilin'?" Bobby's nearly red in the face with how frustrated he is. "Ain't no one that could handle the pressure of whatever is coursing through your brother's veins."

Andrea is about to speak up when she hears her brother shouting out in the hall. She knows he isn't some knothead alpha that can't keep his hands to himself but he's being awfully loud for someone that was just supposed to stand watch. All three of them turn to the door when they hear a responding shout coming from the strange new alpha.

"What in the sam hell?" Bobby grumbles as he strides toward the door. He's shoving it open and forcing the alphas to part when the smell of a heat delirious omega wafts into the room. They both go silent but only Benny has the decency to look abashed when Bobby comes stomping out of the panic room.

"I don't know what the hell is going on here but it needs to stop, we've got bigger problems than two alphas heading off for my boy's hand."

Benny looks confused, ready to swallow his tongue with how quickly he starts to argue. The other alpha, Castiel, looks flustered and that's enough that Bobby is showing the both of them up the stairs with threats of his rifle.

"Chief I wasn't tryin' to take advantage of Dean. I was tryin to keep this here knothead from barging into the room!" Benny presses, accusing eyes burning a hole in the side of Castiel's head. The other alpha, obviously not catching on that he's a stranger in Bobby's house, opens his mouth ready to defend himself.

"I wasn't trying to take advantage of-of Dean," he stutters, like saying Dean's name twists something deep inside of his stomach. "I hardly even knew he was an omega when I first entered your garage. I thought it was my brother that smelled like that. I was fully aware of Alistair's antics and was prepared to smell other strange scents on him. I-I didn't think I'd be smelling-

He clicks his teeth together effectively shutting himself up. If he voices what he thought he smelled when he first walked in, they would probably think he was crazy. Or worse, some pervert trying to get their jollies off on an unmated omega suffering through their heat.

Bobby doesn't seem to let it go though. As stubborn and protective of an uncle he is, he's even more so as a stand-in father.

"You didn't think you'd be smellin' what exactly?"

Yes, he's wearing a suit and looks like he makes plenty of money to hire someone to kill Bobby. Yes, Bobby sees the holster the alpha wears, carrying his own gun that he has yet to draw on any one of them. But Bobby could care less. This was Dean they were talking about and he wasn't about to let some stranger try and charm his way into Dean's bed.

"Um, heat." Castiel says weakly. Even Benny can see through Castiel's weak statement. Bobby though, he looks ready to drop everything all in favor of returning to Dean's side.

"You'll stay here and away from Dean's pup until Dean is conscious enough to speak and we can find out why the hell that happened in the garage." Now it's Benny's turn to look confused.

"He isn't staying here, ain't no way in hell he's staying near Andrea or Dean's pup." Bobby looks at him like he's grown a second head.

"Castiel here looks like he can put himself up in a hotel for a few days. I wasn't about to go spreadin the linens for someone I don't know yet." Bobby whispers the last bit tersely enough that Benny knows that was probably a stupid statement on his own part.

"And what of my brother?" Castiel asks. And as if summoned, Gabriel emerges through the front door. He looks up, his eyes looking both surprised and elated when he sees his brother.

"What about me?" Gabe asks as he takes in the thick air of Bobby's living room.

"This gentleman-

"Name's Bobby, and I ain't no gentle man." Bobby grumbles.

"Bobby," Castiel corrects. "Has informed me he would like me to stay in town until Dean has awoken in order to answer their suspicions about my arrival and Dean's health."

If Gabriel is surprised, he doesn't show it. Merely crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the front door.

"And what does that have to do with me?" Gabriel presses.

"Will you be accompanying me?" Castiel asks, straight to the point, knowing his brother's impatience rivaled a child's. Gabe doesn't answer at first. Something that stuns Castiel for the briefest of all seconds.

"Um, if Bobby wants me to." He says, his head hanging in something akin to disappointment. Again, Castiel finds himself taken aback by his brother's new behavior. Bobby though acts like this is a regular for his brother and replies as if nothing out-of-the-ordinary happened.

"Boy I don't care where you go, but you ain't leaving until I know Castiel is who he says he is and ain't gonna be sending you up uphill once you leave my line of sight."

Call him sentimental, Gabriel knows that if he goes with Castiel they will most likely head home. He doesn't want to leave Bobby's yet. He wants to see if the shop will blossom. Wants to see if anything between him and Sam could grow. He's a few years older than the kid, but he's sure that Dean won't mind. Four years wasn't cradle robbing so he isn't exactly worried.

"Uh, if that's all right with you, I'll stay here. Someone's got to take care of Dean's pup while he's out." He says nonchalantly. Bobby doesn't say that he'll need to take a hot shower, or three, before Andrea will let him anywhere near Dean's pup, but he nods anyway.

He's grown a liking to this strange little man.

"Good, now Castiel?" Bobby says, turning to the man in question. Castiel checks in, drawing his eyes away from his brother in order to level with the man of the house.

"Why don't you find yourself a place to hunker down. We may be here for a few days."


	24. A Dream within Reality Within a Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean dreams while he's in his drug induced mini-coma.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your support, I've been jumping over many hurdles currently so sadly the story has had to be set on the back burner, but I'll try to be more attentive.

Peeling his lids apart is like trying to remove a stubborn fruit sticker from a ready-to-eat snack.

He's got dry sweat on nearly every inch of his body and when he moves, his C-section scar twinges.

The room is empty, but that doesn't stop him from inspecting its contents. Absently holding his lower stomach, right where the waistband of his pants meets his hips, he rises to his feet.

Dean knows the extent to which his body has been pushed. He bares the scars and has endured the pain each of them caused. His back has a number of scars from Alistair's more...demented imagination, and his throat tells the very story of just how he had lost his voice.

But the scar that he hates the most is surprisingly not the one that ripped his child from him, or the one that silenced him forever, but the mating mark upon his knee.

It is warm now, and causes him to walk in favor of the unmarked limb.

Surrounded on all sides by metal walls, he isn't surprised to see the submarine-looking lock upon the door. Like a captain's wheel, it is round and takes two hands to turn. He must remove his hand from soothing the ache of his stomach.

As his hands close around the knobs of the wheel, his stomach drops. White-hot burning pain courses through his abdomen like a hand is personally wrenching his guts. The door is unlocked but it does not open.

It remains shut, leaving Dean to stumble back, clutching onto what he realizes is a completely rounded stomach.

But that doesn't-

"Dean? Oh my precious little girl how I've missed you so..." An all too familiar voice speaks.

He doesn't look up.

He can't.

If he does he'll know that his worst nightmares have come true.

So instead of looking up, he continues looking down, clutching onto the steadily increasing hurt that has swallowed him. His bulbous belly terrifies him because even at seven months into his pregnancy, he never looked this huge.

It looks like he's fit to burst at any second. He can't breathe.

Good God he can't breathe.

"Don't worry darling, I'll take care of that."

And finally he looks up when he should be looking down. His eyes meet the yellow of his mate's and he does not see the knife piercing into him.

He screams.

Bolting upright in bed he's clutching onto his throat and stomach. It hurts. Everything aches. His throat is so dry he'd probably drink blood right now without a second thought. His stomach churns with the desire to eat a cow and throw it right back up.

The most bothersome of all his aches and pains right now is his leg. His knee.

He rolls out of bed, pinching his thigh to try to distract that burning, but it doesn't work. As soon as he's standing on two feet, he's falling on one ass.

His own.

The fall jars him, snapping his teeth together as his elbow smashes into the ground in an attempt at catching himself. Looking down at his mostly exposed legs he sees that the surrounding flesh of his thigh is swollen. The stupid imprint of Alistair's bite looks bruised, something he has never seen in a mating mark before.

It looks disgusting.

Looking around the room, he seems little besides the bed he was sitting on.

Not that being trapped in a barren room has stopped him before. Dragging his leg after him, he settles beside the foot of the bed and starts looking for loose screws. He isn't sure if he'll find one, Bobby takes very good care of his things. Especially his panic room.

But strangely enough, post number three is a bit too wobbly to not have a loose screw. Rubbing his finger tips raw and nearly ripping an entire nail off, he's got one screw. It will be enough, at least, for what he has to do.

He knows that Bobby wouldn't exactly approve of this, but Bobby isn't here to tell him not to do this, so away he goes. The screw is around two inches long and doesn't look extremely old, that being said it doesn't look as sharp as he'll need it.

That doesn't stop him though, he's getting rid of this mark if it kills him.

Or just gives him a bad case of tetanus. Considering he's had a lot worse things shoved into his ass besides a large needle, he think he can handle the back lash.

But what does Dean know?

When he sticks the point of the screw into his leg, he's instantly gritting his teeth. It's dull and takes a strong and steady hand to even pierce through the flesh. Blood runs down his leg in both directions, one toward his foot and the other toward his bunched up shorts. He doesn't stop.

No he doesn't stop until he's got over thirty rough scratches tearing through the mark. He doesn't stop when his hand shakes or when he's dripping a concerning amount of blood.

He doesn't stop until he hears, "Dean?"

A voice he's never heard before, or at least, he can't remember if he's heard it. He looks up with unsteady eyes and meets an ocean of concern. Later he'll recall him as Gabriel's older brother, but now, all he can think of is an angel. Whoever this is must have fallen right out of the sky just for him.

And then he promptly passes out.


	25. On Angel's Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean wakes up, yet again, and hopefully he can stay awake.

"-and you thought you would just waltz in without lettin' us know somethin' was wrong?"

"I went to check on him and h-he was bleeding! Would you have preferred to have found him lying dead in a puddle of his own blood?"

"All due respect Chief, he's right, if he ain't found Dean we'd have been in big trouble."

"Benny, that still doesn't mean Castiel can just go walking in on Dean whenever he feels like it."

"Sammy, you're being a little over dramatic, he wasn't 'walking in on him', he said he felt something was wrong. And he was right!"

Dean can hear the voices coming from the hall, he hasn't opened his eyes yet because he doesn't want to. He's still so tired and numb from the last few days of fighting his worst nightmares.

If he could talk, he'd be chewing out BOTH Sam and Bobby for that little stunt. He had never spent a heat asleep and he doesn't ever want to again. Something had darkened his dreams, whether it was the heat taking over his mind or Castiel's presence, Dean couldn't choose. But something was wrong and it wasn't a coincidence that it started when Gabe's brother came striding into their lives.

He hasn't heard Andrea so at least somebody was watching Robbie.

Oh god, Robbie. He missed him so much. Even being a few doors down is too far. It reminds Dean of the darker days he spent in hell where he didn't even know where his son was.

"Don't you start Gabriel, this is my brother we're talking about! It's my responsibility to-"

"Boy, you barely got a curl o' hair on yo chin. Don't go talkin' about responsibilities when the biggest decision you made today was what to wear."

"Benny, butt out, if you aren't here to help me watch over my brother then you should just go. Check on Andrea and the baby. Bobby and I can handle Castiel."

"You're well aware that I can hear you all. Just because you've assigned me to the foot of the stairs does not mean my hearing has impaired by the distance."

By this point Dean can hardly stand their arguing. He wasn't trying to go back to sleep, but fuck him if he was. It was like listening to a chaotic choir all screaming at different octaves without a sensible word in between bouts. He's on his feet, stumbling in his already bow-legged stance thanks to a thick wrapping of gauze around his knee.

Limping, but not loosing any of his pent up anger, he makes it to the door and SURPRISE, it isn't shut. No wonder the clown choir was so apparent.

Jerking the door open, four sets of eyes snap over to his face. If Sam hadn't already told him about the missing days of his week, he could have easily figured it out by their new clothes. Bobby wasn't even wearing a baseball hat so that alone meant the shop was closed.

Hurriedly, Sam hobbles to his side, if Dean could talk he'd tell him not to bother, but he can't. So he settles with waving his hands furiously around in between signs. Sadly, Missouri hasn't taught him any curse words, but if she had, they would have been cursed to hell and back for their arguing.

/I'm mute not deaf!/ He signs, and Sam, the quickest interpreter of them all sighs.

"We know, and we're sorry for waking you, but this doesn't involve you." Sam barely finishes his sentence before Dean is furiously signing again.

/Not involve me?/ It takes a minute because he doesn't know the sign for 'involve' yet so he has to spell it out. He hates spelling the words out it makes him sound less intimidating.

/You talk about me now!/ Dean exclaims to the best of his ability.

"About you taking a nail to your flesh, not about you walking around the house." Gabriel chimes in, and judging from the glare Dean sends his way, that doesn't make the situation any better. But, thanks to Gabriel's big fat mouth, everyone's eyes are on him, waiting for an explanation.

Both thankfully and not, he doesn't yet know enough sign to tell them about the horrors he was smothered with in his dreams. He can't tell them that every time he thought of Castiel his knee ached. It was like Alistair's mark didn't want Dean to even think about anyone other than its creator. He had to remove it. If not for whatever Castiel woke in him then for his own mental welfare.

/Hurt/ Is all that he manages.

"Obviously it hurt you stupid idjit, you're lucky that ain't had rust on it or we'd be in an even bigger problem." Bobby grumbles.

/Not that, the mark./ Instantly Bobby's mood sobers. He looks like someone dumped a gatorade gallon of water over his head.

"What do you mean the mark hurt? You mean your mating mark?" Sam asks, like he could possibly know what was going on.

"If I could just interject-

"Bro I don't think that's the best idea right now." Gabe cuts Castiel off when he sees everyone turn to give his brother the stink eye. Though, like their entire lives, Castiel doesn't know when to give up.

"Dean?" He starts again, hoping against all hope to catch another look at those forests within Dean's eyes. His wish is granted when Dean turns to him, ready to listen to whatever he has to offer. Its a bit terrifying, feeling everyone's heavy stares on his face, but he presses on nonetheless.

"I've spent the last three days wondering who you were and had to listen to everyone's descriptions besides your own. I know you permitted my brother admittance into your life and for that I'm grateful, but from the moment I set foot on Bobby's property I've been unexplainably drawn to you. I believe it had something to do with your scent, but that mark was interfering with your pure scent, but now that its been removed I know now that you and I are true mates."

If a pen dropped right now it would sound like a gunshot it was so quiet. After Castiel's declaration, Dean hadn't moved from where he stood, too stunned to even think of passing out again.

When he started laughing, everyone realizes they probably would rather he have fainted on them again. His laugh is weak, due to his affliction, but it's apparent. Its wheezy and sounds like a dying animal. Sam is rightfully terrified and Gabriel secretly wants to strangle his brother. As for Bobby, he had to set himself down because this all was well out of his own hands. True mates. Fan-fricken-tastic.

"Not that I want to go on burstin' yo bubble brother, but how d'you know that Dean's your true mate?" Benny piped up, standing now closer to Dean's wheezing side.

Castiel was quiet for a moment, too entrapped with the way Dean's eyes filled with panic but his mouth spoke of joy. He didn't understand. How could anybody be both happy and afraid at the same time? He barely even registered Benny's voice talking and looks over to the man's face. What had he said? How did he know?

Simple.

He just knew.

"Because now that Dean is here, everything makes sense."

That seems to shut everyone up, including Dean, who with one last gasp for air, stops laughing altogether. No one knows what to say. They weren't expecting this to happen. There were so many other things at play here. Not just Dean's life but that of his friends and family.

If the mafia had a problem with Alistair and the mafia just settled into one of their guest beds, that could quite possibly bring a reign of trouble on top of them. He didn't need this. He COULDN'T do this. Dean knew what he was capable of handling and this wasn't it.

Not right now.

It was all too soon.

Too quick.

He had a pup, he couldn't possibly go shack up with an alpha. Not right now! All alphas have ever wanted from him was pups and he couldn't do that.

Not right now.

Too soon.

Toosoon.  
Toosoontoosoonsoonsoontoosoonsoonsooonsoonsonsos-

"DEAN!" Sammy yells as Dean drops to the ground. His hands go flying over his head in an attempt to protect himself.

He was too tired to try to fight of Castiel's advances. He just wanted to be with his son and to heal from the scars that Alistair had left him with.

Dean can't hear the barking orders that Sam calls out to Benny. He doesn't hear Castiel's shouts of argument. No. All he can hear is Andrea's footsteps after all the commotion of dragging Castiel upstairs, she's coming down, carrying the one thing he needs in this world.

His son.

When she's within reach, he removes his hands from where they were tearing out strands of his hair and lunges for Robbie. If he had his son everything was going to be okay.

Burying his nose in his pup's neck seems to calm him almost instantly. He goes limp, aside from the tight embrace he holds his baby in. His eyes look glazed over, like he's not all the way present and it frightens Sam enough that he has to take a step back.

The last time he saw Dean look like that he had lost his leg.

And as if sensing Sam's own rising panic, Bobby sets an authoritative hand on the back of his neck. A gesture that many parents do to settle their pups. And Sam finds that he's no different. He allows his adoptive uncle to lead him up the stairs as Andrea sits with Dean in the silence of the basement.

He doesn't know if they would both fair better if Castiel were to leave and never return or stay. Dean was too...unstable to bond. At least right now he was. And them leaving has nothing to do with the slight admiration Sam has felt toward Gabriel. It has nothing to do with him at all.

Because Dean needs him. He probably always will, but if Dean were in his position he wouldn't doubt himself for a second. He raised Sam basically like his own pup. Now it was Sam's turn to return the favor.

Just after a little time apart. Everything was still so fresh, his leg was still healing as well as the thoughts in his head.

They all needed time and Castiel would just have to wait his turn.


	26. The Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of what Dean thinks is the rest of his life starts. He isn't ready, but as long as he has Robbie, everything would be okay.

It's four in the morning and Dean is downstairs, watching T.V. on the lowest volume as Robbie nurses in his arms. A thin blanket contains his modesty, but when Castiel walks down the stairs, Dean hurries to shield himself even more.

When blue meets green, the ocean crests as Castiel takes in the scene before him. Unlike many alphas, he could contain himself around an exposed omega. Judging by the way Dean reacted, he expects Castiel to pounce on him, regardless of the baby in his arms.

"Oh, I'm sorry if I had frightened you, that wasn't my intent, I-I just came downstairs looking for..." He looks up, only just now realizing the time.

Why was he awake again?

"Um, coffee." He attempts weakly.

Still, Dean doesn't speak, not that he would if he could. He hasn't seen Castiel in a week. Purposefully changing his and the baby's schedule so he could avoid the other man. Bobby however, put him up in the last room he had, insisting he wanted to "keep an eye on him". This interruption however, should never have happened.

Castiel usually wakes up at six in the morning. He'll go on a jog, not that Dean watched him leaving the house in a pair of tennis shoes or anything. He usually only takes thirty minutes to run around the neighborhood and Dean will usually stuff his nose into his son's neck so as not to smell the alpha's passing stench to the bathroom. He will accompany the others to breakfast and then vanish for three to four hours at a time.

Then and only then will Dean leave his and Robbie's room.

Seeing him now is like a deer being caught in a hunter's high beams.

Carefully, so as not to separate Robbie from his nipple, Dean brings his legs onto the couch and tucks his knees up against his baby's back. He's heard the wild stories of other alphas killing omegas babies if they aren't theirs biologically. He doesn't think Cas could be capable of that, even if he was an enforcer for the mafia. Still, he wants to be prepared for anything.

"Sorry again." Castiel tries lamely before scurrying to the kitchen.

Now that he's out of Dean's scent range, his head is clear and he remembers why he came down here in the first place.

They had a line on the facility and his father was pulling in him and his brothers for an attack. Waking up to the sound of his father's voice was never a good thing. He had lackeys that kept in contact with Castiel and his brother's. The only person he probably talked to himself was Gabriel. And that was because Gabe was the only omega Chuck had fathered.

Castiel, Lucifer, Michael, Ezekiel, Gadreel, and even little Samandriel were all alphas. As for his two sisters, they had presented as betas. Castiel had no clue if Chuck kept as in touch with them as he did his brother. Most likely not.

The coffee machine beeped, signaling the end of his frantic worrying. His liquid courage was here now and he could probably get through another agonizing conversation with his true mate. He hears the sound of a gurgling baby and spins around on his heel, nearly sloshing all of his coffee out from its mug.

Standing in the doorframe, looking utterly wary, but beautiful all the same was Dean. Robbie looked ready to fall back into a deep sleep, snuggled against Dean's chest. Castiel couldn't help but look at the baby fondly. He was so sweet and kind to his omega parent, Castiel was thanking the gods that Dean had been gifted with such a good baby.

Dean's free hand moved, gesturing to the coffee pot behind him and the cabinet that held the mugs. He worked out whatever Dean must have been asking and set his own mug on the counter.

"How do you take your coffee?"

When Dean doesn't reply, his shoulders bunch up to his ears as he can practically feel Dean's annoyance.

"Sorry, Sam has informed me only 'yes' or 'no' questions until I'm more versed in sign." Spending two hours at the library was worth it just to see Dean's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.

"So, sugar?"

* * *

He didn't return to his room. He doesn't really know why, but he's curious. The alpha was like no other one he'd had the displeasure of meeting. Normally he'd have set Robbie down in his little baby pillow or in a crib, but in Castiel's presence he keeps a tight hold of the pup.

"I don't understand the premise of this show. That is horribly uncleanly for two professionals such as these doctors to be fornicating on a recently made bed." If Dean finds amusement in the statement, he doesn't show it.

Strange little alpha, with almost...cute tendencies, but still. Fine line that he won't be crossing. Fine line.

"Nor the reasoning behind boots as a sensible choice in footwear. His feet must be positively aching by the end of his shift."

That one does get him to smile. He can't help it. Doctor Sexy is sexy because he wears cowboy boots. Also, this is modern day television, nothing makes sense. If Dean had been in a soap opera he's sure he wouldn't have had a sensible plot to follow either.

/A movie/ He signs when Cas turns to look at him. Surprisingly Cas understands. Well, no, that's not surprising, he's been learning for the past few days so he obviously would understand some of what he signs.

"I understand this is just a show, but that does not defeat the purpose. I'd like to talk to one of the writers on this show. Hardly any of the love triangles make sense and there is a man that is dead, but only the female doctor can see him? That doesn't make sense, ghosts aren't real." He looks like he's elated to be finally having a conversation with him, but what he doesn't realize is that Dean's internally freaking out.

Ghosts are real. And so are demons. And shape shifters.

Monsters that hide behind human smiles.

Alistair is real.

John is real.

Azazel is real.

"Dean?"

His eyes snap up to see the look of concern of Castiel's face. Too soon. This was too soon. He knew it was. Castiel is just going to become another monster in his life. He can't do it.

"DEAN!" Castiel yells when Dean nearly drops the baby. Of course, he didn't actually drop Robbie, he was rising to his feet and stood up too fast, but it was too late. Castiel's hands were already raised, ready to catch Robbie in case Dean had dropped him.

He was trying to take his baby.

That's what they all wanted. Every alpha just wanted to touch him and steal and take and and hurt. God why is he in pain? He hurts. His head is absolutely pounding, but he won't let go of Robbie. He hears Castiel yelling for help, but he's already running toward the door. He needs to get out. It's too soon.

Castiel's hand touches his shoulder, trying to stop him from leaving, and he flinches as if he's been burned. He can't go back to being someone's omega. He just can't.

"DEAN STOP." Castiel says in a commanding alpha's tone. And like a good little omega, Dean is obedient.

He's shaking where he stands and tears are streaming down his cheeks.

It's too late. He's already Castiel's. He should never have stayed here. Who knew what kind of man Castiel was.

The alpha rounds Dean's body, facing off against him, and Dean keeps his eyes trained to the floor. Like he was taught to. If he acts right now, maybe Castiel will spare his son. There's thundering down the stairs and it sounds like Bobby made it down first.

"What in the hell is going on here?" He rushes. The air smells absolutely like frightened omega. So thick that even Robbie's barely formed sense of smell is affected and he starts bawling his eyes out. When Bobby is at Dean's side, he can only stare at the down trodden look on his face.

When Dean passes the baby over wordlessly, Bobby takes him without question.

Everyone has made it downstairs by this point. Everyone is there to watch as Dean drops to his knees with his head bowed before Castiel.

Eventually Castiel realizes the horrible mistake he's made and drops to his knees right in front of Dean. How could he have been so stupid? He knew the kinds of things that Alistair had done to his stolen omegas. His brother had told him that Dean had been Alistair's favorite as well. Even as a beta, Alistair was a very dominating man. Who knew what Dean actually thought of him.

With shaking hands he reaches out to touch Dean's face. He can feel the heat behind Castiel's palms and flinches away.

"Dean?" Castiel whispers. His mate doesn't look up, like his eyes are glued to the ground before him

"I-I-I didn't mean to say it like that. I was just so scared that you were going to leave and been taken again." He stutters, feeling a strange heat behind his own eyes.

"I'll leave so you won't have to." The idea strikes him and he realizes that that is probably the only good thing he's said all morning.

"Yes, that's what I'll do. You deserve someone that won't ever speak to you like that. I didn't intend to frighten you. I'm so sorry. I would never bring any harm to you or your pup. I'm so sorry." He's up and rushing through the crowd of people watching this whole spectacle when Benny catches his arm.

He looks up at the big bear of a man, knowing full well just how much he's fucked up. He deserves whatever the other alpha wants to do to him.

"Calm down there chief, what the heck happened?" Castiel sees Sam over Benny's shoulder. He's leaning on one of his crutches, but looks like he could probably still pounce on him if he tried.

"We were just watching television and I was asking questions about the show and there's a character on this specific-

"Not minute by minute Cas, down to the point." Sam says warningly.

"I suggested that ghosts weren't real and he started panicking and almost dropped the baby so I just reached out-

"Oh bro, that was a terrible idea." Castiel turns on his brother, staring incredulously at the man.

"What was I just supposed to let the pup fall to the ground?!"

"Brother, I don't think you need to be skipping town over a panic attack, but I will tell you this. You ever use that tone on that boy again, I'll take you out back and let the birds eat what's left." Castiel nods, still unsure on how he should go about patching this up.

He turns and sees Dean still on the ground and he wants to go to him, but he's smart, so he keeps his distance. Seemingly satisfied that Castiel hadn't been trying anything inappropriate with Dean, Sam limps over to his brother and eases himself onto the ground in front of him. His brother doesn't seem to realize that Sam is the one enveloping him into his arms and just hangs limply in his embrace.

It has Castiel feeling ten thousand times worse than what it originally started out as. He's weaseling out of Benny's strong grip and scurrying toward the staircase before anyone else can stop him.

"I'm so sorry, I never meant for him to be pushed this far. Gabriel, I must go, I'll tell father that you are taken care of."

"Cas wait!" Gabriel calls out as his brother bounds up the stairs three at a time. "We can fix this! Just stop running!!!" Gabriel pants after him. His brother's door is closed when he finally makes it down the hall. The door is locked but he already knows that of all his brothers, Castiel is the fastest.

When Benny shoves the door in, he hates how right he is. Cas is gone.


	27. Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel has left Bobby's and is doing surveillance for his father at Alistair's compound.

Gabriel paces. He's been doing it since they found his brother's empty room.

Andrea had been the last to wake at the sound of rising conflict and found Gabriel scenting his brother's pillow in his arms. It only takes one look from his worried face that she steps into the room and pulls him into a quick embrace.

"What the hell've I missed?" She asks, tone light and dreamy. Judging from the concerned scent her friend has saturated himself in something has gone wrong. If the pillow in his arms means anything as well then this something has to do with his older brother.

"Castiel's gone." Gabriel replies, short and clipped, and he drops the pillow between them and returns her comforting hug. If she stiffens, he doesn't pay it any mind, he's far too focused on his own problems.

"Did he leave?" She asks, imploring but not invasive.

This is the most raw emotion Gabriel has shown since she's known him. It's strange mainly because he has not made a single joke or tried to lighten the mood.

"He left because of his own stupid sense of chivalry."

Before she can question him, Sam seems to have made his way up the stairs, like he must see the evidence of Castiel's disappearance himself. Seeing the rumpled sheets on the bed and a distraught younger brother, he can tell something happened. The room is missing one man, Castiel. His brother's alleged true mate.

"Gabe?" He speaks, feeling the questioning heat of Andrea's eyes on him. The omega pulls away from Andrea's embrace, looking up at the younger man without any care of his appearance. Tears track down his face and his cheeks are filled with a red that apples would envy.

"Is Dean all right?" Gabe asks.

For a second, Sam forgets who Gabriel is talking about, blinking, he realizes it must show on his face. He clears his throat and nods.

"Yes, he's calmed down and we were able to move him and Robbie to their room." The two were sleeping, whether or not it was a pleasant nap or not, Sam didn't know. Dean hardly slept well. Even before getting kidnapped. He suspects it has something to do with John and his sporadic entrances at night. They left so many motels in the middle of the night Dean is probably the lightest sleeper he knows.

"I'm sorry that he was set back, I really did not think that Castiel meant him or Robbie any harm." He mends, but Sam is not having him bear any of the blame.

"He'll be okay, it's Dean, he could take-

He nearly lets it slip that Dean had taken a set of shifter claws to the abdomen once without hardly any reaction, but then he reminds himself that these people know nothing of the world of hunting.

"He can take a lot and still manage to keep a level head. He knew Cas probably meant no harm, but he gave Robbie to Bobby just in case. He's still processing everything with Alistair. Give him some time and he'll trust Castiel as a friend. Maybe one day even as his mate."

Gabriel smiles, weak but hopeful.

"I hope they both can learn to be with one another. Castiel would never try to replace his pup. If I know my brother, it's that he'd jump out of a two-story building than make Dean choose between him or his pup."

Andrea smiles, noticing Gabriel's casual comedic relief easing the way for the rest of their conversation.

Sam hopes what he says is true because wherever Castiel ran off to, he left little in the way of locating him. If he didn't want to be found, there was no telling if he and Dean could ever mend their already rocky relationship.

* * *

The night's sky is heavy with the smell of rain. Having left Souix Falls for the little town near Alistair's compound, it is already late in the day that he must find lodgings at the nearest motel. Looking at the distance between Bobby's and Alistair's, Castiel feels his inner wolf claw at the surface. Dean is so close to his own nightmare it is terrifying. 

A twig snaps in the near foliage that hes surrounded in and he's turning on his knee like a swivel chair. The gun lifts to the shape of a creeping figure.

Two sets of hands are up and a familiar face has him lowering his weapon without another moment to waste. Gadreel.

"I could have shot you, you know?" His older brother nods, absently and Castiel doesn't try to make conversation. They are here for one thing and one thing only.

They received a tip that Alistair was clearing out his facility and trying to move his baby makers to another location.

If they let him slip through the cracks, it would take another month to find him again. It had taken far too long in Castiel's opinion to find Gabriel. That had only taken two weeks.

"Our brother, he's not in your care. Where have you left him?"

He trusts his brother, he does really, but with Dean and the baby now a forefront thought in his mind, he wouldn't give that location to the pope.

"In a safe house. He's healing from minor wounds, nothing to fret about." Gadreel seems to accept this as the only bit of information he'll get, and takes it.

"Michael and Lucifer stand not a hundred yards across from us. Ezekiel should be nearing the back entrance to get us some footage of the place."

With that, Gadreel is pulling out a handheld device that jumps to life when his finger touches the screen. The connection is poor, but this had been such a last minute sting operation that Castiel didn't even bring a set of gloves.

Which meant one thing. No one would be marked for death.

Not yet at least.


	28. Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is handling life without Castiel. Perhaps hes just now realizing how much time he spent looking out for the man, now that he's gone his window has never looked so empty.

The sun is shining and without the overhead on the porch, he's sure he'd be blinking out sunshine from his eyes. Missouri sits across from him, gently bouncing Robbie as Dean leads through one of the many books Missouri has brought for their lessons.

It's been a week since Castiel left.

Just thinking about him has Dean stopping mid sentence. The way he had reacted bothers him so much. Of course Castiel wouldn't have hurt Robbie. For an Alpha that man is incredibly docile.

He was just so scared. With Castiel here it's like staring down the barrel of his future and having to choose whether or not he wants to pull the trigger.

His hands are subtly shaking, not so much from fear, but anger. He's grown tired of being scared. Tired of acting weak.

Looking down at himself, the bandage around his arm has been removed and the markings of a dog's bite leave an impressionable scar. Taking out that dog's throat hadn't even been a second thought for him. It had been instinct.

Now if only he could learn to trust his instincts again. They had let him down so many times before.

"Sugar, you're thinking mighty hard this mornin'." Missouri says without looking away from his son.

He looks up, finding the woman cradling the baby with such reverence that he can't help but smile. She was such a warm person. Trusting her had taken little to no effort. Like trusting Andrea when she watched Robbie.

Logically he knew these people, his friends, he could trust. But he had spent so much time only trusting Sammy that he's wary of everyone else.

Speaking of, before Dean can sign out a reply, thank god, his younger brother comes striding through the scrap yard with a huge smile on his face.

He's gotten the hang of his prosthetic and Dean could see the weight taken off of Sammy's shoulders when he was able to get rid of his crutches.

He's up on his feet, abandoning his book before Sam makes it up the steps. It's times like these that he forgets he can't speak. When he opens his mouth to try and form a simple 'hello' Sam stops in surprise.

Obviously nothing comes out. Much to both of their disappointment. Thankfully though, Sammy is quick to recover the incident by pulling Dean into a tight embrace.

"Bobby registered me for school De." The two pull away and Dean is smiling now from ear to ear. Finally, Sam has something that is solely his. He has his childhood.

/That's good Sammy/ Dean signs as soon as his hands fall from around his brother.

He's given them all their names in sign language now, something Missouri told him he could do when he finally got the hang of basic sentence structure. His brother smiles even wider at his name. The little big weirdo gets so excited everytime he sees how well sign has helped his brother.

They are definitely a step above their old signs. That first few days had been hard trying to communicate with his brother. Sam shivers at the memory, quickly shoving it in the farthest reaches of his mind in favor of looking over at his nephew.

"I'll miss seeing this guy for lunch, but I'll manage with hugs between school." He said as Missouri wordlessly handed him over.

As Robbie was raised and passed over, Dean realized he hadn't been worrying so much about the baby at home. He knew they were safe here and that anyone that touched his son did it out of love. He wanted to be able to work up a trust for himself, now that he knew his son was safe.

He needed to learn how to trust his family with more of himself. That was the least he could do for them after everything they do for him, he could stand to open up a little.

It was then that Bobby came walking through the yard, his car keys in hand and a fond look on his face. Dean admired that man more than words could express. That man was his father, not John.

He's looking over at Missouri to sign something, but she must see the look on his face because she waves him off with a knowing look.

"Go on boy, I'll still be here when you're finished." She encourages.

With a gentle squeeze to her shoulder, he's up and making his way down to Bobby. The older man looks up, confused for a second, before Dean's hands start signing a question he's been waiting to see.

/Can we talk?/

He nods without a doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really nearly left this story, I'm sorry you guys were left hanging. I'll try to give you an ending that doesn't blow ass.


	29. Bobby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby's perspective on the situation and his boys.

His hand wrapped around a bottle was a familiar sight he had gotten use to. Come to think of it, in the last two years he hasn't gone a day without something helping him along.

His daddy loved drinking. Probably a bit too much. But Bobby knew that he would never turn out like his father. He wasn't a mean drunk. He was sullen and morose.

In the most recent months drinking made him tired.

Now though? He hasn't had a drop since they came home. His boys. Sam and Dean. Back from some unknown hell and by the looks of it took, it took a toll out on the both of them.

The only bottles he holds now are full of milk from Dean's nursing.

That was something he was still trying to wrap his head around. His kid had a kid. Son of a bitch. He was a grandpa. Good lord he was getting on in years. Sooner or later, one of the boys would be taking him out in the backyard to put him out of his misery.

Though, now he doesn't have much to be miserable about. Dean was signing more, coming out of his little shell and Sam, that boy was taking to life on the outside. After having measurements taken and molds cut, Sam was back to standing on two feet.

That was something too. Good God those boys couldn't catch a break. Their lives so far had been shit. Worse than a soldier's after war. And they were both still so young.

"Hey Bobby?" Sam speaks up from beside him. They has just finished registering Sam up for school and have spent most of the drive in comfortable silence.

Bobby turns an ear out toward the boy, acknowledging him with a gruff, "hm?"

"You think- think that I'll maybe be able to..." When his voice dies off, Bobby turns over to check on the boy. The kid finally gets the courage to finish his question when he feels his pseudo-father's eyes on him.

"Drive?"

Sitting upright, Bobby has to give that one a good thought. Tons of people without either legs drive, that's what this new age shit was for right? Helping the incapable be more capable and whatnot.

"Boy, you can do whatever the hell you want to. Soon as you're steady on your feet, I'll show you how to drive whatever kinda car you want. Shoot, Dean'll help fix it up too."

Sam eased into his seat, a careful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Thanks Bobby."

When they arrive at the house, Sam gets out of the car first. Bobby waves him ahead, mumbling something about the carburetor making a noise. The boy leaves wordlessly, he's getting quicker on that leg so when Bobby looks up, he's alone.

Good thing too, he was getting to be a little too emotional for his liking. He'd have to look into fixing up at car for Sam, something that could work with his missing limb. Sad part was that it was his right leg, the one in charge of pushing the pedals. Well, them boys were Winchesters, and them boys were stubborn..

Gathering himself with a heavy sigh, he's out of the car and walking down the dirt path without another thought.

It's days like these, coming home to a full house, hearing life in every corner, that makes him think it was almost worth it. They got Robbie out of this shitshow. They got a new family, and that is what they were, because family don't end in blood. 

He looks up and sees Dean on the porch with Missouri, she's holding the baby, looking into his eyes like they hold the future, and he can't help but crack a smile at that. Yeah, it was almost worth it.

Dean is standing, making his way toward him, when he starts signing. They had all been getting better at it, Missouri made sure everyone had some frame of reference whether it was flash cards or a dictionary to pick up the language faster. So when Dean signs, /Can we talk?/ He's nodding without pause. He's been waiting to see those signs since Dean started learning how to communicate again.

Nodding his head toward the garage, Dean gives him a thumbs up and wordlessly follows after him.

Opening the door wide enough to accommodate Dean's shape, Bobby lets the boy lead him to where he's most comfortable. The bay. Right near his work space. If this conversation wasn't making him nervous, Bobby would have said something about that idjit being so damn predictable.

"So, kid, what did you want to talk about?"

Before they set themselves down on the stools by Gabriel's information desk, Bobby reaches through the open window for a pen and note pad, in case signing doesn't work out too well for them. Bobby's learning, but he ain't Sam, that's for sure.

He drops the pad in front of Dean with a steady gaze on the boy's face. If he were anything other than a beta, an older one with a shot nose after years of smelling oil and gas, he'd probably be able to smell the anxiety rolling off of Dean's back. Just the thought of even telling Sam this when he had witnessed it was terrifying. Telling Bobby was so much harder.

He fiddled with the pen, waiting for Bobby to lose his patience like Alistair did when Dean didn't readily comply to his wishes. When nothing happens, not even a small slap to the back of his head for clicking the pen ONE too many times, Dean eases into his seat.

This is Bobby. He could trust Bobby.

Now only if he could trust his lungs to keep functioning he'd be solid.

/Ok/ Dean signed, practically shaking himself to start writing.

* * *

It was his fault army of this had happened. It was all because of his stupid heat. They left Ellen's without putting up a fight. He was working at a bar, John had been gone for far too long and he was trying to save money to make it to Bobby's.

Bobby is reading over his shoulder, slowly as he listens to the light scratches the pen makes, his eyes catch a familiar name.

"Uh, let me stop you there boy. Ellen? Ellen Harvelle?"

Dean's nodding with a confused look on his face. Then it hits him. Ellen owned a bar that serviced hunters. Bobby knew her.

"Son of a- did she kick you out? I don't hit women but I'll string her up by her toes if that's what happened."

His pen stops. Technically, that is what happened, soon as Dean had dropped their father's name they got the boot.

He's writing down as much in his next note.

When he looks up at Bobby's face, trying to assess what really is the matter, he nearly flinches. Bobby looks livid. He looks like he could fillet someone right now.

"You stay right here boy." Bobby tells him as he stands and stomps off toward his office. He hadn't even had a chance to explain what might have pushed Ellen's decision. Honestly, he still didn't know what her and his father's history was, but if it was worth kicking two kids out of her bar, he didn't want to know.

He can hear the office door opening, the door rattling in its frame, and Dean didn't envy Ellen.

He hears the phone being dialed and it has him sweating in his seat. He knows that Bobby isn't angry with him, but man, the last time a beta was angry around him it got his voice cut right out of him. He's proud of himself when he signs to Bobby without shaking hands.

/I'm going to Robbie./

Bobby held the phone against his shoulder, and it was either the look on his face or his scent gave him away. Which was a feat considering Bobby didn't have that strong of a nose. Nonetheless, Bobby stops mid-dial and looks at Dean. Like, really looks at him, too long hair and confused expression, the whole encompassing omega that he was and it made him freeze right where he was standing. He's hanging up the phone and making his way over to the stools before Dean can leave.

"Sorry son, it's just...well, I can figure why Ellen is so pissed, but to take it out on you boys...that ain't right." He signals for Dean to take his seat once more, which he does warily.

/Why was she angry?/

With a sigh and a heavy hand rubbing down the extent of his face, Bobby shakes his head.

"Ellen had a mate. A hunter like us, John went out on a hunt with him and...well only he came back."

Like a puzzle piece finishing the picture, Dean understands. If he could talk he probably wouldn't be able to find the right words. He settles for nodding his head, acknowledging the information Bobby has presented him with, and finds a frayed string on his jeans suddenly very interesting.

With another sigh, Bobby speaks. "You came in here to talk to me, and if its about your time in that place, just know I won't ever judge you for what you had to do or what happened. But don't you go blaming yourself for getting nabbed. That ain't your fault. It was circumstances that probably could have happened to anybody."

"You hear me son?"

He nods reluctantly. Its just so hard. If he hadn't been born an omega, nobody would have wanted him.

Its as soon as that thought crosses his mind that he hears his son's cries at the door of the garage. Missouri is walking in with a calm look about herself.

"Baby is hungry, wanted his papa." She says, side-eyeing Bobby as she walks right past him. Dean's reaching out for his son without another thought, his scent calming and his smile returning on his face. If he hadn't been born an omega, Robbie never would have been born.

A bit sheepishly, feeling both Missouri and Bobby's eyes on him, he lifts the bottom of his shirt, making room for Robbie. The baby latches on fairly quickly, quieting when the promise of food is right in front of his nose. Now it seems that Missouri catches on to the purpose of this conversation.

"Honey you listen good here, your uncle ain't looking to throw you out at the first mention of whatever bad you got in your brain. That baby is a good that came out of that bad. Don't you think that hell was worth it?"

It was a risk, Bobby thinks, but he's been thinking the exact thing. It has been almost two months since they've come home, a week since Castiel left, Dean should be able to approach them with his concerns. Not that they were pushing him, but they needed to know what kind of danger they should be looking for.

Dean looks up from the bump under his shirt, images of his big belly a pleasant thought. Even Sammy had enjoyed him being pregnant. Said Dean had never smelled like home more. It made him think of his mother, it made him happy Sam could think of him like that. Like he could protect him or even bring him into this part of his life. Trusting him enough to start his own family because Sammy could take care of himself now.

The pain, the dreams, the scars on his body, and his missing voice. His own sacrifices had been worth it, but Sam's. That was something he would have to learn to cope with. His actions were a reminder every time he saw Sam standing on one leg. Even with Gabriel in the picture, he sees the interest the two share in one another, Sam isn't as smart as he thinks. He's a shit liar and no matter how many times he asks if Sam likes Gabriel, he gets the same answer. 'No, of course not, we're just friends.'

He can't help but think if Sam was still an Alpha if he and Gabriel would have scent bonded. Maybe they were true-mates.

"Sam doesn't blame you for anything more than you blame him." Missouri says in such a sure tone that Dean wonders if she can read his mind.

Still, the message is well received. He would never blame Sam. So why should he blame himself? He should be blaming the man that took them in the first place. Alistair was still out there and Cas was hopefully hunting him down.

Hm. That's a nice thought. His alpha killing the man that hurt him and Sammy. Fitting revenge.

He recoils like he's been slapped and both Bobby and Missouri lean in to stop him from falling off the stool.

"Son?" Bobby says the same time that Missouri says, "Sugar?"

God they are so caring that it hurts. Like Castiel had been the day he nearly dropped Robbie. Man he had so much to atone for there. He had a true-mate he hadn't even spoken more than a few sentences with. A good man undoubtedly. Son of a bitch.

He's signing Castiel's name at their questioning eyes. A look of understanding crosses over Missouri's face, but Bobby still looks a tad lost.

"He doesn't care what happened to you boy, that won't change the way he thinks about you. He's been waiting for you for years and if you don't ever talk to that boy, I don't think he'd try to fight your wishes to never see him again. He cares. He does. About everything when it comes to you. What you're brother thinks of him, what your uncle thinks of him, that boy spent two hours of my time trying to learn how to speak to you. Even if all you said was 'stay away'. He's willing to grab the moon for you. He doesn't have to be your alpha if you don't want him to be."

Again, he feels eerily like Missouri is scraping his thoughts right out of his head with a spoon. Calling Cas his alpha had been second-nature. So...natural. He knew Cas could protect him, but he also knew that Cas would let him be...himself.

"Oh, is that what you're freaking out over? Son you don't have to give that boy an inch if you don't want to."

Dean is smiling before he can stop himself. He knows he can have these things. He can share these things with the people he loves. Maybe even Sammy. Finding forgiveness from him or even himself would change everything.

Great. Now he just had to work up the nerve to talk to Sam about that. And then Cas. Shit.


	30. Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is ready to throw in the towel because something is up with Alistair's compound.
> 
> He isn't inside.

Days.

They had spent days surveying the compound only to see three guards and two civilians. Yet Alistair had not left the compound. His skin was itching with irritation. There was an underlying need to contact his brother or Sam just to see how Dean was fairing.

Then again, he didn't deserve to know that information, he had broken Dean's trust by manipulating him like all of the other alphas in his life.

Or at least...the alphas in this building.

But he was going to fix that right up. No more need for his mate to worry about this place. This hell hole was going to burn to the ground and he was going to stand there and watch it.

"Castiel, father has instructed us to take the compound by nightfall. There are messages being intercepted about possibly fleeing, if we want to retaliate it must be now." Castiel looked up from his position on the ground, his younger brother's face was streaked with the light of the sunset. One of their bags was slung heavily over Gadreel's torso. 

Without a word, Castiel nodded toward him, he had been waiting for this moment since they had found Gabriel had been missing.

"Where are the others posted? We need to cover all possible exits."

When Gadreel speaks, he takes the bag from overhead and tosses it at him. "Michael has taken point, everything is already in motion, you and I are taking the main entrance. Father has suggested that this door will be the least protected."

Setting the binoculars down, no longer interested in watching from the sidelines, Castiel reaches out, unzipping the bag and wrapping his palm on the neck of a gun.

His spine tingled and his teeth clenched, undoubtedly a side effect to finally getting the man that hurt his mate.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Castiel fights the urge to shake those thoughts right out of his mind. Not his mate. Dean. Just Dean. Just a man that he was seemingly unable to control himself around. He could hardly think straight walking down the stairs when Dean was nearby.

He couldn't imagine what it would be like holding a conversation without the pretense of television carrying them. Even then he messed that up.

"Castiel? Did you hear what I just said?"

Turning, Castiel realizes just how far he's fallen down the rabbit hole when he sees Gadreel has fully geared up.

"I said that father wants us to leave any omegas we come across, any left after Alistair's initial moving are probably injured or liabilities. They will slow us down."

His breath catches in his throat. The sun nearly sets in the time it takes for him to breathe again. It takes another moment, nearly another sun, before he finds his voice.

"L-leave them?"

His brother nods, emotionless as always, and Castiel realizes this is not the first time they have done something like this. This would not be the first time they left omegas, betas, PEOPLE behind for the cops to find. Helping people wasn't their schtick. They were killers.

He was a killer.

Numbly, he dresses himself. Putting on his bullet proof vest like everyone else, over head and one strap at a time. He cannot explain why it suddenly bothers him to do this, to abandon people that need his help.

With a gun attached to his thigh, a couple of knives pocketed around his sides and leg, he's ready to kill someone.

Gadreel looks him over once before handing him a rifle and a handful of magazines.

"Michael and Lucifer are taking the back entrance, Ezekiel has pulled up enough feed from the security cameras from within the compound. We should be ready when he gives the signal. He and Samandriel will fall in after Michael and Lucifer."

Castiel frowns at the mention of their youngest brother. He had hoped the boy had stayed home, but their father had asked for all hands on this attack. No one would be left out of this fight.

"What of Anna and Ambriel? Have they joined this little excursion?" He's irate and nearly ready to hit his younger brother in his expressionless face. They both know Anna and Ambriel's whereabouts. Ambriel was in school and Anna was heavily pregnant.

"Castiel," Gadreel sighed. "We do not have the time to send Samandriel back. He's here because he wanted to be."

Castiel shook his head. That damned boy probably felt obligated, their father guilt tripping him into helping them. He was supposed to be getting out of the family business, not screwing himself out of a future.

Something crosses over Gadreel's face, he's looking at Castiel like he's grown a second head. Castiel nearly looks over his shoulder to check.

"You haven't developed a conscious, you've found a mate."

Even though it isn't said in a threatening manner, Castiel feels his hackles rise, his teeth nearly creaking with how hard he's clenching them. Gadreel nods his head, his brother's response was an answer in itself.

"Put them out of your mind for a few minutes. I need your focus. You can go running back to them when we've taken this compound."

Castiel deflates. He had honestly been expecting another reaction. A threat to tell their father, to tell Castiel that he had to choose. Anything except this shoving aside business. It has Castiel curiously examining his brother. While he was usually emotionless and carried this constipated look of indifference on every mission, there was an underlying emotion hiding behind his facade.

"Father told you something about this place didn't he?"

Gadreel turns, looking at the building in the near distance. "He told me that if we can take this place, I may leave as I've 'earned' my freedom." Castiel closed his eyes. He had known of his father's relenting pressure to continue the family business, his father had asked him once before if he had wanted to leave the business, but Castiel had stupidly turned him down.

He hadn't had a mate to think about. Or a pup.

Gadreel probably had hopes of finding someone himself. Of finding emotion and expression.

"His name is Dean." Castiel says, looking at the compound as the last rays of sun slowly hide behind the mountains shape. "I'm here to kill the man that hurt him."


End file.
